


A Gilded Chain

by Windhouse



Category: Original Work
Genre: Accidental Plot, But no actual dubcon/noncon, Dom/sub, Drama & Romance, Edgeplay, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, F/M, Femdom, Historical Fantasy, Invasion of Privacy, Kinbaku, Kink Negotiation, Minor Injuries, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Original Fiction, POV First Person, Pegging, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Royalty, Semi-Public Sex, Slight undertones of past dubcon, Slow Burn, Submissive Man, Who doesn't love getting a shiny new boy toy?, gentle fem dom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2019-11-14 05:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18046184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windhouse/pseuds/Windhouse
Summary: You've been raised in the warm jungle-surrounded city of Yasim since the day you were born, living in the lap of luxury as a noble from birth. It's opulent, rich, and beautiful in the castle you roam every day, chatting with the other residents and fawning over the Empress. It's a glittering lifestyle.But it's driving you insane.Every day is the same, and even the more under-the-table and hush-hush pleasures that others seek to entertain themselves aren't to your taste: they're too dull. And so painfully vanilla. You think you're destined to live a life where you keep your desires hidden, unsatisfied and bored by the world around you.That is, until you finally find him. An angel. YOUR angel. Your beautiful bird that you can keep on your gilded chain to sing its heart out for you for eternity.Fate may have other plans.





	1. Daily Routine

This land is rich and thriving. A whole civilization growing every day, changing and morphing, and in the heart of it, the city of Yasim. The biggest jewel on the crown of the land’s benevolent empress, the mighty Amara. Legend say she cut swaths through the unforgiving and untamed jungle around her, bringing peace and order, uniting this turbulent continent. Now she lives in comfort, surrounded by gilded towers and many treasures within the walls of her castle nestled in the heart of Yasim. The city itself is a delight for the senses. Endless tiled rooftops, sloping streets filled with crowds, brilliant swaths of flags strung all about, and the air suffused with the smell of spices and wood smoke. The people of this land flock to this pulsing hub of humanity, reveling in the sights and sounds, especially drinking up the distant spires and winding walls of the moated castle in the middle.

 

Amara certainly has built a sparkling life for herself, surrounding and padding it with good food, better entertainment, and all the consultants and friends she could ask for. Which is exactly where I fall. Into the category of friend or of consultant, I cannot say; I come from a long line of nobles that were ever-close to the power of the throne. To me, the gap between myself and the ever-immaculate Empress feels cold. Distant. Yes, I walk the halls of this enormous castle, dressed in silks and jewelry. Yes, I dine with her ladyship, laughing at her stories and complimenting her wit. I am by all accounts nestled in the lap of luxury, like many of her other consultants. But I am not her friend. I am just another one of her accessories: like the wild and majestic Arabian horses in the stables, or the dancers who spin across the feast hall’s tiled floors like tropical storms of satin and veils. And I have made my peace with that. I am content to kiss her ladyship’s rings and spend my endless free time wandering the large palace gardens or talking to the other nobles.

 

But twenty years of the same gilded hallways would drive any girl mad with boredom.

 

I sigh softly from my perch by the tower’s window. A definite perk to castle life was that every window looked out over the endless waves of the city below: I could almost make out the city’s border walls in the far distance through the dim twilight. With a stretch I heave myself up from the cushioned chair I was resting in, padding across the carpeted floor to check my reflection in my room’s gilded mirror. I grab a brush from the nearby table and pull it through my hair a few times, taking an extra second to straighten my layered silken robes before I head out into the upper tower halls. My slippers echo on the stone, reverberating off the arching walls and ornate hanging lamps that suffuse the whole castle with warm yellow light. After many sets of winding stairs that can only be memorized with dedication and time, I arrive on the ground floor and make my way to the great hall for dinner. Another night, another lavish display of wealth. Another round of flirting politely with the nobles, nibbling savory meats, and making idle gossip with those around me. I round a corner, breathing deeply as I pass a wall of columns that open into the courtyard below, allowing the warm night breeze suffused with jasmine and lotus to cool my warm face. Summers in Yasim are always warm, even at night, but they’re nothing compared to the smokey heat of the great hall.

 

I arrive in front of the gilded doors within the next few minutes, smoothing my robes one more time before entering the large room. The sound of sitars and ornate flutes fills the air as I enter.

 

“Esha, darling, come sit down!” A woman with large golden earrings beckons me to the gargantuan table in the center of the room, already heavy with candles and crowded with nobles. I smile at her: she is, after all, the woman I grew up with within these walls, like many of the other noblewomen. I take a seat at one of the chairs, pulled into the conversation of who’s-dating-who and strange rumors from distant corners of the kingdom.

 

The Empress eventually joins us, ever poised in radiant glory at the end of the table. Even if she wasn’t the ruler of this domain, she would still draw gazes with her polished dark skin and piercing gaze. Greetings are issued, the same as every night, and the food is brought out by beautiful servers, the same as every night.

 

I hold my fork in my hand tightly, knuckles white. I don’t even remember what day it is. _Why bother keeping track if they’re all the same?_

 

“Darling, are you alright?”

 

A voice shakes me out of my reverie, and I blink only to discover that the feast is over and nobles are departing from their seats, chatty and ready to fritter their time away on activities around the castle. There’s a hand on my shoulder: it’s the same golden-earring woman again, with a concerned look in her eyes. I try to say _i’m fine_ , try to draw from the well of practiced detachment and calm that has been drilled into my since childhood… but I cannot. Instead I look silently up into her stare, and her gaze softens in sympathy.

 

“Let’s take a walk in the gardens, shall we?”

 

I nod noiselessly, taking her hand as she leads me out of the smoky hall, and away from the days that all blur together into an endless haze.

 

The garden is cool, refreshing. It feels nice to be out among the twisty mango trees and hear the buzz of the cicadas after being cooped up in the castle all day pretending to care about results of the latest horse race. I reach up and pull a long leaf off a nearby tree, feeling its veined and silken coolness between my fingers. Only after I’ve taken a moment to stop, to breath, to center myself under the purple evening sky, do I turn and talk to my fellow noble. She has been sitting idly on the lip of a stone fountain nearby, swirling the water with a pinkie and watching the glittering fish below.

 

“Do you ever feel… I don’t know. Bored?” I ask, sitting next to her.

 

She levels her gaze with mine, cocking a dark eyebrow. “Of course. Who doesn’t? I’m no goldfish-brained simpleton, but palace politics can only hold my attention for so long.” She snorted, attention drifting back to the fish.

 

I roll my eyes and crack a half grin. “Exactly. I just-” I take a moment to tuck hair behind my ear and collect my thoughts. “Don’t get me wrong. I was raised well, I know what I have in life Is a gift and a pleasure. But lately i’ve been feeling...stifled. Bored in a… different sense.”

 

Her head snaps back up, a wicked smile on her lips. “You haven’t been getting laid, have you.”

 

I can’t help it, her deadpan delivery makes me cackle, earrings jingling as I giggled helplessly. “In a way I suppose you could look at it like that.” It was true. Palace life wasn’t physically demanding, but every second was filled with some sort of performance or boring meeting; it was hard to get a lot of time to myself.

 

“We _have_ consorts for that reason, you know! Talk to anyone in the palace, it’s hardly a well-kept secret. All you need to do is brush shoulders with the right people and you’ll have your pick of the prettiest of lays.” The noblewoman feigned a haughty accent at the end of the sentence, lifting up a hand and examining her nails in a mockery of the shallower nobles.

 

The thought left my biting my lip. There lay the problem: the problem that I had been avoiding thinking about for a very long time. It was commonplace for those that lived within the castle walls to chase their pleasures, and that encompassed the realm of the sexual. It was so popular in fact, that there was a discrete service dedicated to training personal escorts: people from the city that desired that lifestyle or craved the chance to live in the lap of luxury could volunteer, dedicating their lives to satisfying the carnal needs of bored upper class citizens. It wasn’t uncommon to see a beautiful man or woman hanging off a noble’s arm, and knowing exactly where they had come from.

 

The only trouble was, I’ve scared my last three escorts away.

 

It seems that most nobles are perfectly content with the mundane, to plunder or be plundered a few times a week, vanilla and placid. But my tastes are rather… unique. Tastes that, I have been told, are _not_ for such refined palettes. My first escort, a handsome man, put in a notice of leave within two weeks. My second escort, a young woman, legitimately fled my bedrooms. My last escort mocked me with cruel words; freak, sadist. I terminated that relationship the next day, and never saw them again.

 

Needless to say, I was hesitant to delve back into that world of hurt.

 

“Let’s just say out of the three times I’ve tried that service, it’s ended disastrously. I don’t think most of their candidates are a… good fit for me.” I replied dryly, flicking a stray fallen leaf into the fountain.

 

The noblewoman’s eyebrows knitted. “Clearly you haven’t been in the loop for quite a few months. The system has been…” She put a hand on her chest, looking up at the sky with an indulgent smile, clearly reliving the past, “Greatly refined. Body type, hair color, bedroom preferences. You name it and they have a match.” She looked back down at me as she talked, plucking a jasmine flower from a nearby vine and tucking it behind my ear. “You’re young. You’re beautiful. Surely you’ll be able to find _someone_ right for you, Esha.”

 

Her gaze was warm, honest. She truly believed in what she was saying; I could tell she wanted me to give it another shot. The drama around my adventures behind closed doors was probably the closest thing she had to entertainment right around now. I give a defeated huff, nodding my head in a conceding motion. She beams.

 

Later that evening, when the city is lit only by dim lanterns and the castle’s residents have lowered from a loud chatter to a sleepy buzz, I slip from my opulent room and deep into the winding hallways that make up the center of the royal establishment. I pass noble men and woman and proceed to go through the motions I've done three times before: smiling at the right time, talking to the right people, laughing at the right moment. Being directed and redirected to new people that could get me what I wanted.

 

Eventually that lead me to a small chamber filled with hookah smoke and low plush couches. In it sat a few nobles, flirting closely together in glittering and jewel-studded groups, save for one man. He looked up at me from his seat and I knew that he was the one I was supposed to talk to. I sat down, falling into the old sweet-talking routine while taking hits on the hookah. We discussed idle chatter before falling into the subject at hand.

 

“So,” the man said, blowing smoke up into the air, “What are you looking for?”

 

“A man.” I replied, resting an arm on the sofa back, “Someone strong. Beautiful would be ideal but who doesn’t want that?” The man’s lip quirked at my remark as I continued to talk. “But in the end, the gender and looks don’t matter.” This was where I reached a dead end last time. “I want someone who’s alright with the abnormal.”

 

The man was silent before giving a slow and knowing nod, teeth white in his understanding grin. “I pegged you for a woman with unique tastes the moment you walked in here. It’s how you carry yourself.”  With a final puff from the hookah he sat up straight, offering his hand for a firm shake. “I’ll do a little digging, see what we can find. Should have something for you within the next week or so.”

 

I took his hand firmly. It was rough, calloused. Unusual for a noble: it was clear that while his relaxed disposition blended well with the castle, he was merely a liaison for a business outside the walls.

 

“I’ll have the full payment delivered to you.” I said, standing up from the couch and eager to leave this dark little room. “Have a good evening.” I threw over my shoulder as I headed for the arched doorway.

 

“You as well, milady.”

 

I hiked up the many stairs back to my room, swinging the door shut behind me and immediately resting my forehead against it. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ That transaction was an impulsive decision spurred by boredom that would pull 20,000 rupees from my private accounts. I groaned low into the wood grain of the door before running my hands down my face and stumbling off to the side room to draw a bath. _History shows that this never ends well: why would this time be any different._

 

My thoughts spiral into melancholy and exhaustion as I bath, dry, and fall into the embrace of my luxurious bed sheets. Today was a day of rash decisions that left my heart in my throat, choking on not only my own idiocy, but the sharp sliver of hope that somehow this would end differently than before.

 

“Dammit, Esha.” I murmur to myself, smashing my face into a pillow, holding it close to my chest. I always was a fool. But all I could do now was sit and wait, and harden my shell for the imminent rejection of my needs because they didn’t align with the dull and drab wants of others. I blew out the bedside candles.

 

My sleep was deep and long. I dreamt of warm skin, understanding eyes, and rejection.


	2. An Angel

I spent the next week trying to forget what I had done by busying myself with trips out to the crowded town streets and discussions with my fellow nobles. I spent more time around the empress, dedicating my energy to her every need so I wouldn’t have to focus on the knot in my stomach. At one point when crossing one of the courtyards I met gazes with the woman from the garden. She shot me a smug smile. I turned my head away, knot in my stomach immediately twice as big. I shouldn’t have talked to her. When my next companion quietly excuses himself from my service, she would be watching. What would she think of me?... God forbid she gossip to the other nobles. That would spread like wildfire; I've had a difficult enough time keeping the last three instances under wraps as is. 

 

Now it was a Sunday. The full force of the summer’s humid heat beat down on the city without mercy, driving most people to seek shelter in the shadows of their adobe homes, or in the castle’s case, the cool tiled halls that were shielded from the sun. 

 

However, nothing could ever deter the Empress from her mid-day excursion to the sprawling gardens out behind the palace. I walked behind her with the rest of her chattering entourage of noblewomen, holding a blanket for her to lay out and sit upon and playing my role as vapid chattering companion. Sweat dripped down my forehead as we wove down brick pathways, past groves of trees, ponds, and swaths of rose bushes. Realistically I would rather be inside the castle right now, dipping my legs into a bath drawn full of cool water, a good book in one hand and a cup of wine in the other. I turn my thoughts away from that path by striking up conversation with a young girl next to me who was carrying a wicker basket full of picnic lunch foods. She was beaming with delight, soaking up all the beautiful of the garden around her.  _ This is a woman who will fit right into the life of a noble _ , I think.  _ I wish I could say the same for myself.  _

 

The fact that I’ve requested an escort had almost completely left my mind by late afternoon. I had spent ages sitting under a tree with the Empress, feeding her candied fruits and weaving flowers into her hair with the other women, giggling and gossiping about the new hired gardener, and the old ugly Duke that wouldn’t stop trying to woo Empress Amara. I watched hummingbirds sip from zinnias and shrieked when a flamingo grew too bold and tried to steal some of our lunch food. I was just done with shooing it away in the direction of a shallow pond, face flushed with the heat even in my light cotton dress, when I spotted a royal courier trotting in our gathering’s direction from behind the grove of olive trees. I wasn’t concerned until I saw him make a beeline for me. 

 

“Can I help you?” I said as I stepped towards him, very aware that the girls on the picnic blanket were watching me. 

 

“There’s a man waiting for you inside the front courtyard. He says he was scheduled to meet you today?” The courier said nervously, wringing his hands together. He was a sallow and anxious looking fellow, clearly new to palace work. “You  _ are  _ Esha, yes?” 

 

My stomach immediately tightened, hands growing cold even in the oppressive summer heat.  _ Has it really been a week already _ ? I straighten my back, trying to clear my expression of any nerves in front of the very gossipy young noblewomen. “Yes, that’s me. Thank you for letting me know.” I flash him a weak smile. 

 

The courier gives a terse bow and practically bolts from the garden. 

 

Hands clutched at my sides, I move back to the Empress, sitting at her feet and kissing her bejeweled hands, apologizing about having to leave for an urgent meeting. She meets me with that same polite yet distant smile and hypnotic gaze she always does before she bids me farewell. I bow my head before jumping up and leaving, the tall grass of the lawns tickling my ankles as I circumvent the the hot stones of the winding garden trails. 

 

I hurry through the castle, nearly knocking over a servant carrying a tower of fresh linen. Despite my apprehension, I’m excited to meet this mystery man; I worry my lip with sharp teeth to keep the smile off my face. I feel it deep in my gut as I hustle down the winding hallways: the pull, the ache of going unsatisfied for so long. It’s a rich and dark desire that I fight every step of the way.  _ No use in riling yourself up when you’ll just be disappointed again _ , I scold myself. I storm through the entrance hall, barely having the patience to wait for the two guards to push open the massive double doors that lead into the opulent courtyard. As the hinges on the mighty things creaked, the two men pushing them with full force, my toes curled with anticipation. The sensation eventually overpowered my resigned sadness. I ran a hand through my hair, pulling it from my sweaty face.  _ There’s a beautiful man waiting for me out there. Even if it ends like all the others, at least i’ll get the pleasure of seeing someone that, for all intents and purposes, is mine for a while. Mine to hold, to direct. And maybe even for a little while, to touch.  _

 

As soon as the doors were open wide enough I sped through in a flurry of dyed linen and excitement. I ran into the sunlight, not even taking a moment to pause at the top of the enormous flight of curving stairs that lead to the sprawling courtyard, instead hopping from step to step as fast as I could. When I reached the bottom I came to a standstill, searching the courtyard with eagle-like intensity. Against my better judgment I was practically salivating, like a tiger when it smells a baby deer nearby. Most of the courtyard wanderers were nobles, as you weren’t allowed in past the gate without a meeting. 

 

Then, in the middle of the yard, standing dead center in the circle of ornate tiles, was the man from the hookah lounge. And directly behind him, hands clasped in front of himself modestly, was a very beautiful man. 

 

My mouth went dry. 

 

I felt like i floated towards them, legs carrying me there on their own accord as my mind walked the tightrope between salacious excitement and guarded apprehension. 

 

The man from the hookah room smiled at me, taking a step forward in greeting and shaking my hand once more, immediately launching into charismatic one-sided conversation like any good businessman. I nodded distractedly, gaze locked over his shoulder. There was something behind him that I was much more interested in. 

 

The escort-  _ my escort? _ \- was stunning. He was tall and well built, standing at least a head and a half higher than myself, with a hard jawline, a chiseled nose, and eyes framed with thick lashes. His long honey-blonde hair was styled into a thick braid that hung down his back, two smaller ones encircling his head. He was dressed borderline-demurely in a flowing patterned robe and woven sandals, showing just enough skin around his chest and shoulders that it was clear he was here to entertain those that looked hard enough. I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were; he insisted on keeping his eyes averted and posture submissive. He exuded none of the practiced casualness of the normal escorts. 

 

The hookah man clapped me on the shoulder, bringing me back into the moment. 

“Anyways, I’m sure you’ll enjoy him. Have a wonderful day, milady!” The man said, flashing me another toothy smile before turning and walking off, brushing past the escort like he wasn’t even there. The blonde man took notice of his employer leaving, and moved his hands to his sides, standing to his full height and looking up at me for the first time. 

 

I felt my heart stutter. He had the most beautiful pair of amber eyes I had ever seen. 

 

“Hello, there.” I said, taking a step towards him and holding out my hand, palm down. ‘And who might you be?” 

 

Taking the hint, he took my hand in one of his large ones, bringing it up to his mouth to place a kiss on the top. His lips were soft, the contact sending a soft thrill of heat down my center. 

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, milady. Please, call me Angel.” His voice was deep, smokey and masculine, yet soft and pliant. He looked up at me through his lashes and now more than anything in the world I wanted to keep him. 

 

“Angel?” I said with no shortage of amusement, making no move to conceal the way my gaze roved his concealed body, “It certainly suits you.” I cocked a hip out, drinking in the width of his shoulders and narrow taper of his waist. 

 

He flushed a delicate pink; an action that made my raise my eyebrows in surprise. My my my, this towering man, blushing at a little compliment? _How delicious._

 

“Well, Angel.” I continued, tossing my hair over my shoulder, “Allow me to treat you to lunch. It’s the least I can do, considering how hot it is and how long your journey must have been to get here.” My sentence is a thinly veiled excuse to get him away from the public, but there’s some truth to it. Anyone traveling out in this heat must be exhausted.

 

He flashed me a smile, tilting his head. “I would like that very much, milady.” 

 

His voice is soft and sweet, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It gives me pause, but not enough to hesitate. With a crook of my beckoning finger, my new entertainer follows me back up the stairs and into the welcoming cool shade of the castle. 

 

* * *

It’s a good while until we’ve settled in my room. He’s arrived here with nothing but the clothes on his back and they are already dirtied with sweat. When we arrive in my chambers I note (with no small amount of satisfaction) how he quietly marvels at the high ceiling and ornate furniture. I give him little time to adjust before shoving a towel and a clean set of clothes into his arms and directing him to the wide circular bath where’s I've drawn up some cool water for him to wash in. 

 

“Will-” He hesitates, brow knitting like he’s trying to figure out what he’s supposed to say, “Will milady be joining me?” I’m sure that he intended that to sound seductive and confident, but he just sounds unsure. I subconsciously make another mental tally on my list of concerning factors. 

 

“No, Angel. You go wash up and i’ll send for something to eat.” I say, tilting my head in the direction of the bathroom. He pads silently towards it, pulling the folding screen closed behind him as I head down towards the kitchen. Once i’m away from him and into the semi-darkness of the hallways I find myself able to think a little more clearly. There’s something off about Angel; he has all the physical attributes of a trained escort, but a voice in the back of my head is telling me something’s wrong. I find that that little voice is often more sensible than the people around me, so I tend to listen to it. 

 

Down in the kitchens it’s hot as ever, the cooking fires always going. I may play the role of giggling noblewoman for the first part, but I have a soft spot in my heart for the servants and cooks in the kitchen: I know most of them by name. I greet one of the head chefs with a quick hug, catching up with her as I lean against a counter in a very un-noble-like way. After a bit of wheedling I convince her to make some veggie tikka masala with extra saffron the way I like it, as well as palak paneer on jasmine rice. With a good-natured huff she tells me she’ll have it sent up right away, but only because she likes me so much. I bat my eyelashes and coo a thank you, but elect to take a seat at the worker’s lunch table and wait for the food to be done. I don’t want to admit it, but I’m a little apprehensive to return to my chambers. A hot man is nice in theory, but in practice? It seems that this situation may turn out to be much more complicated than it looks. 

 

After a good half-hour the food is done, cooked so perfectly that i’m tempted to wolf it down then and there. But I concede to let a servant tail me and bring it back up to my chambers, setting it down on my table by the window and scurrying out when they hear the sound of someone moving around in the bathroom. I stifle a laugh at the flush on their face. 

 

After a few minutes of waiting I walk up to the screen, rapping on it with my knuckles. “Angel? Are you nearly done?”  _ Who takes a 40 minute long bath? _

 

There was a panicked splash of water before there was a response, and my mouth quirked in a smile. “I’m sorry Milady!” Came a worried voice from the bathroom, followed by the rustle of a towel and the sound of shifting fabric. 

 

“It’s no trouble.” I say with complete honesty, eyeing the hot food on the table. “But this lunch isn’t going to eat itself.” 

 

I’ve only just sat down on my chair when the screen slides open and out steps Angel, and  _ oh yes  _ did I pick the right outfit for him. He looks flustered, wet hair draped over his shoulders, tugging at the tunic I picked out. It’s loose and open at the chest, showing off his prominent collarbones. Paired with the high-waisted and form fitting pants that hug those stunning thighs, he truly looks a sight. I have to shut my eyes for a brief second, restraining my leering libido. There’s nothing I want to do more right now than jump his bones, but instead I gesture to the seat opposite me. “Hungry?” I ask, pouring him a goblet of wine as he sits down. 

 

Angel nods enthusiastically, looking at the dishes with hungry eyes as I pile his plate up with the masala and paneer over a bed of rice and set it in front of him. He digs straight in like a starving man. I grin with a deep satisfaction as I serve myself some masala as well, already more pleased than I have been in months: the things that taking care of a man can do to someone’s sex drive is incredible. It’s been ages since I’ve had the opportunity to care for, to direct. To control. 

 

“So, Angel.” I strike up idle conversation as we share a meal at my window-side table, “Where are you from, exactly?” 

 

“My family owns a farm outside of Yasim. I used to work there.” He replies once he’s swallowed an enormous mouthful of rice. As I watch his throat move I idly wonder what his gag reflex is like, how well he’s trained it.  _ Stupid sexy distracting man.  _

 

“Oh? This must be quiet a change for you, then. You must be out of your element.” I murmur, resting my elbows on the table staring at him through my lashes. 

 

“Yes, Milady.” He says. Something about the question has made his face fall, a distant look filming over his eyes. Shit, time to change the topic. 

 

“Have you ever seen the palace gardens?” I ask, “They’ve got all sorts of birds inside them. I’m not sure even I’ve seen them all yet.” 

 

He latches onto the topic change, looking relieved. “I haven't, but I've heard rumors about it. Is it true that there are white peacocks? I have my doubts that they actually exist.” 

 

I laugh, using it as an excuse to eye his lean arms and the veins on his strong hands. “It sounds implausible, doesn’t it? But it’s true, and we have several. They’re albinos.” Under the table, I shuck off my shoes, letting my bare feet breath with a wicked (and unabashedly horny) idea in mind. “We have quite a large assortment of pigeons as well.” 

 

This earns a genuine smile: albeit guarded, but genuine. “So does the town marketplace. I assumed that the royal palace would have creatures of a more fanciful nature.” 

 

“Oh we do! These are  _ royal  _ pigeons.” I jab a fork in his direction before spearing a piece of paneer and popping it in my mouth. “They’ve been bred over years and years to have these beautiful bands of color on their bodies and wings. I didn’t think pigeons could  _ come  _ in magenta or auburn, but there are ones down in the garden right now proving that to be true.”

 

As I talk, I move my bare foot, ever so softly, towards Angel’s leg, ghosting it along his inner calf, up and down with feather light touches. 

 

To his credit, he twitches slightly,back straightening, but otherwise continues to eat. “Is that an official job title here at the castle?” He pauses for a quick moment as my foot brushes higher, up past his bent knee, “I know i’d be apprehensive to tell acquaintances I was the royal pretty pigeon breeder. That may cause some confusion.”

 

_ Oh, he’s funny when he’s trying to handle a changing situation. I like that.  _

 

“It would take a bit of explanation, wouldn't it?” I say softly, resting my chin on my hands. I move my foot deeper, along the inner side of his thigh. His leg jolts, knee hitting the underside of the table. Normally, I would have taken that as a good sign. But I was watching his face. I saw the millisecond flicker of pain, the brief unpleasant scrunch of his eyes. 

 

My leg drops to the ground with a thump and and i’m standing up immediately. Angel’s expression pales, and the little voice in the back of my head is dancing and squealing  _ I told you there was something wrong! I told you!  _

 

“You’re hurt.” I state, towering over him from my domineering stance by the table. 

 

“I- I’m sorry Milady, I was just-” He blanched and spoke in flustered and jagged sentences, blindly hunting for an excuse. 

 

“Don't lie to me.” I cut him off, dropping my facade. Gone was the demure and chatty noblewoman, leaving the real Esha in her stead. “Show me what’s wrong.”

 

Angel hesitates in his chair before rising to his feet, nervously hooking a finger under his waistband, looking up at me through his wet hair for confirmation. I cross my arms and nod. Slowly, he lowers the hem of his pants on one side, just enough to reveal what I need to see. His hip bone juts out in what would normally be an alluring display, but I ignore it. 

 

On the skin of his upper thigh is a shallow cut, a stroke of razor burn not too far away from it. It’s the work of a straight razor; a hasty and uncaring shave.

 

I look up at him, at his wide-eyed and nervous expression. “Are both of your legs like this?” I say quietly. He nods tersely. With that information in mind I yank down the shoulder of his tunic, making him release the hem of his pants with a surprised gasp. I unceremoniously lift his muscled arm up and out of the way: and sure enough his under arm is smooth and hairless, but red and irritated with bad razor burn, a tiny nick near the bend of his shoulder. I drop his arm, but as I do, I notice something else. My fingers go to his ear, and he winces as I touch the two gold piercings there. They’re fresh. Brand new, punched through his skin what must have been only hours ago. 

 

The pieces start to come together in my mind. The unsure words, the nervous looks. The jumpiness. The hasty cleanup and ‘beautification’ of his body. 

 

“When did you leave the farm?” I said, eyes piercing his. 

 

Angels swallows, hard. “Today.”

 

_ He’s not even trained _ . My stomach feels like a pit of lead. This isn’t an escort; this isn’t an educated person learned in the ways of the court and comfortable with their job. This is a man that has been picked up off the street and thrown into a world he is wholly inexperienced with. _This isn’t what I_ _ wanted._

 

“...Unbelievable.” I say faintly, torn between being bitterly disappointed and livid. Not only did the escort service  _ cheat  _ me out of the trained professional who’s services I paid for, they dumped this man into the demanding and complex life of a pleasure servant without any help or guidance. I take a step back, away from Angel, dropping to my knees to grab my shoes from under the table and slipping them on foot by foot as I walk to the door. Angel watches me with an increasingly horrified expression. 

 

“Wait, please.” He pleads. 

 

I ignore him, storming to the door and intent on finding that hookah man and strangling him until I got my money back or he was dead. 

 

“Wait!” Angel says loudly, lunging towards me and snagging my wrist in his strong grip. I turn to face him, expression venomous in part because of the current situation, and in part because how  _ dare  _ he touch me without explicit permission. His face pales, and he drops my wrist like it’s white-hot. 

 

But i’m paused, foot tapping against the stone. 

 

Angel sees the opportunity given to him and takes it. “Please, just listen, i’m begging you. I-  _ please  _ don’t send me back to the service. I- my family needs the money, they’re not going to make it without it,  _ please _ , god- I’m sorry, I- they need it so badly, the farm is going to be repossessed if they don’t-”

 

I hold up a finger, silencing him mid-plea. He looks torn up, desperate, tunic tousled and palms up and towards me, eyes wide. Begging. 

 

_I can’t say no to that face_. 

 

_ Fuck _ , I think to myself, slapping both hands to my face and dragging them downwards.  _ Fuck, fuck, FUCK _ . 

 

“You’re not even  _ trained _ .” I growl, looking up at him from under angry eyebrows, knowing in my heart that I have to keep him. 

 

His face brightens in hope. “I know, I’m so sorry Milady, but the service say that you wanted someone who would do anything, and I’ll do  _ anything  _ I really will, I swear!”

 

I sigh. The burning anger at being swindled by the service is extinguished, replaced with soul crushing disappointment. This is not what I wanted. This is not someone who is willing to play with me: this is someone who will go to any length to make sure his family can eat. “But you don’t  _ want  _ to.” I reply, softly. 

 

His mouth opens and closes like a fish; he wants to deny it, to contest it, it’s written all over his face. But it’s true. 

 

I can’t help it. I feel crushed. I take a step backwards, sitting on the long chest at the end of my bed, trying to stuff my disappointment back into myself. I knew this was too good to be true. And there is no way that I would ever make Angel do something he didn’t want to do. After a moment of collecting myself, Angel standing stiffly in the middle of the room watching me, I speak. 

 

“You can stay. Of course you can stay, Angel.” I say, looking up at him. His posture sags in relief. “I’m going to call for one of the servants. You’ll sleep in the bunk quarters.”

 

Guilt riddles Angel’s amber eyes. “My lady, I am happy to stay and attend to your needs-”

 

“No you’re not.” I interject. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that’s what you actually want. Because I know it’s not. Do you want to play the role of escort? Do you even know what you’re doing?”

 

Angel looks at me with a pained expression. “...No.” He whispers. An answer to which question,I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. 

 

With his answer I cross the room and pull on the service string that will ring a bell and summon a servant. I open the door to my chambers, looking over my shoulder before I leave. “When the servant gets here just tell them you’re to sleep in the bunks tonight. They’ll take care of you.” 

 

I don't give him a chance to answer before i’m out the door, walking down the steps of the winding tower. I could use a walk in the garden as the afternoon turns to evening; hopefully some time under the canopy will clear my mind, or at least make this awful hard lump in my throat go away. 

 

As I walk down the staircase, the little voice in my head speaks in the chiding tone of a parent. 

 

_ This is why we don’t get excited. See?  _

 

_ We have to accept that we’ll never get what we want.  _


	3. A Secret Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> me, writing this chapter: u want sum fuk?

Angel slept down in the bunks.

 

Or at least I assume he did, because he wasn’t in my room when I got back in the late evening. I shucked off all my clothes with a little more force than necessary, throwing myself down into my bed and wanting nothing more than a few hours of uninterrupted sleep where I didn’t have to think about anything.

 

Unfortunately uninterrupted sleep often feels like nothing at all, and it felt like only minutes had passed when I was awoken by a beam of hot summer sun shining in through my window. I groaned, letting my head hang off the side of the bed, greedy for another few moments where I didn’t have to face the day. From my unique upside-down vantage point, I saw a bit of red poking out from under one of my dressers. With a frown, I easily identified it. It was a length of soft red rope that I kicked under there in frustration several months ago.

 

_I pulled the length of cord out from my drawer as my escort waited for me on my bed, posing alluringly against the sheets. “I want to tie you up and make you scream.” I said, practically drooling at the thought of the rope pulled tight across his chest and hugging his thighs._

 

_He laughed aloud. Then he paused, face falling. “Wait, you’re kidding right?”_

 

I shake my head to dissipate the sour memory, launching myself out of bed and rummaging around in my closet for something light and airy to wear in the hot weather. I see the bundle of rope peeking out. I kick it further under the dresser.

 

As I tie my hair up into an elegant braid with a cord of ribbon, my mind drifts to Angel. Fuck, what am I gonna do? What’s the point of paying for a pleasure escort when you’re _not being pleasured?_ I huff: I supposed what i’ve got now is a very expensive male acquaintance with a distractingly hot body.

 

With that in mind I wrap an ornate jewelry necklace around my neck, sling a little bag over my shoulder, and head out to face the day, intent on picking up my escort as soon as possible. It would be cruel to leave anybody, let alone someone you’re responsible for, in a confusing warren of rooms filled with strangers.

 

My feet led me to the servant bunks purely on muscle memory: i’d visited this place countless time to come gossip with the kitchen maids. Swinging open the crude wooden door, I marched in, on the hunt for my hot blonde.

 

He was in the corner of the room in the middle of putting his tunic back on, a discarded night shirt sitting on the window ledge nearby. I leaned against the doorframe, watching his back and arm muscles shift and move with passive appreciation as he pulled the shirt on.

 

“Angel.” I called casually. He whipped around, standing up a little straighter when he saw me. I can’t deny it: standing with the early morning sun haloing his golden hair, tunic half-buttoned? He looked so tasty. _Pull yourself together, woman_! I chastised yourself, clearing my throat. “Let’s go on a walk, get you familiar with the palace grounds.”

 

“Yes, Milady.” He says, voice rough from sleep. He joined me out in the hall and we’re off like a shot: I set the pace to a brisk walk, partly because the palace is so big, partly because I don’t want to linger too close to him. As we round the adobe walls of the lower tunnels of the fortress, I undo the flap of my bag and toss him a sugar-crusted blueberry muffin. I swung by the kitchen on the way here, snagging two for breakfast. Angel catches it (barely), and shoots me an appreciative look as he bites into it.

 

We arrive at our first stop quickly.

 

I step into the massive ballroom, making a broad sweeping motion at the giant domed ceiling, footsteps echoing in the emptiness. “This, obviously, is the ballroom. It feels a lot smaller when there’s two hundred people in poofy dresses crowded into it.” I explain.

 

Angle walks toward the center of the room, mouth open in awe and half-eaten muffin still gripped in his hand. I crack a sort-of smile at that: it’s easy to forget that most people aren’t used to how to palace looks. He looks bowled over, face tilted all the way up as he examines the intricate moulding on the ceiling.

 

“Can you dance?” I call after him, catching his attention.

 

“I know a few pub jigs.” He says loudly across the room, quickly walking back to my side.

 

I shake my head. “We’ll have to fix that. Ballroom dancing is normally something covered in training.”

 

The passive-aggressive remark makes Angel’s jaw lock. But a night has given me some time to think, and i’ve decided i’m not gonna hold anything against this man. He’s only doing what he needs to to provide for his extended family back home. I give him a reassuring clap on the shoulder before turning heel and walking out of the room. He’s quick to follow me. _Well, at least he knows when to take orders_ , I think sarcastically.

The majority of the day passes in the same way. I lead, he follows. I explain a room and it’s uses, he runs around and touches everything like an excited puppy. It would be adorable if it wasn’t so exasperating. Fortunately i’ve saved the best for last, already having thought ahead about how mentally exhausted this tour would make me.

 

We arrive at the back gardens around four in the afternoon. Thankfully they’re empty: there’s a traveling orchestra performance in the main hall right now that everyone who was anyone ‘simply _had_ to see!’. But the heady allure of lush tree groves and the sweet smell of crocus flowers was far more appealing to me than ten stuffy musicians playing the same popular classical pieces everyone played.

 

Seems that was the right call for Angel, too. I stood on the patio that lead to the garden’s entrance, looking out over it and all its natural beauty. Without warning I felt the closeness of Angel, standing right by my side. He seemed to be drinking in the rich smell of blooming flowers and the calming sound of chirping birds as well.

 

“It’s beautiful.” He said, quietly. His words sounded raw.

 

“Isn’t it?” I replied.

 

“It smells like home.”

 

We took a moment to look out over the vast vegetation, seeing the summer wind sway the manicured trees and make the surface of the nearby ponds shimmer. I turned to my escort, a genuine and mischievous grin on my face. “It’s empty right now. If you want, I can show you all the secret places we’re not supposed to go.”

 

He smiled back in return, and for a moment I saw not the beautiful escort with the flowing hair, but the tired young man who left his whole life behind to care for the ones he loved. “I’d like that, Milady.”

 

On impulse I grabbed his hand and pulled us into the opening of the garden, guiding him as we went. In only moments I had veered off the path, carefully stepping over a manicured bed of azaleas and skirting a lilypad-speckled pond. We inched along its edge, only a foot of ground between us, a tall hedge, and the water. I nearly lost my balance when a big fuzzy bumble bee flew into my face. I shrieked, waving my arm wildly. Angel laughed loudly at my maniacal movements, and I scowled at him once the bee was a safe distance away.

 

“Oh think that was funny, huh? I could have died, Angel!” I growled, the crinkles under my eyes betraying my humorous mood.

 

“Hardly, my lady. Bumble bees are as gentle as kittens. They pollinate the farm’s lavender every year. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Angel replied as we continued to edge along the pond.

 

“They'd hurt  _me_. Damn thing practically dive bombed me.” I grumbled. The man next to me snickered.

 

I finally found what I was looking for: a gap in the hedge that surrounded the pond. I slipped through with ease, but now it was _my_ turn to snicker as Angel tried to force his large body through, the sharp evergreen leaves clawing at his face.

 

This was the part of the garden that I loved: a part that I didn’t often have the time to see. Surrounded by twelve foot hedges, this large portion was sectioned off when the gardeners realized it simply could not be tamed. The creeping vines ran wild up the sprawling willow trees, flowers grew in random and natural patches, the plants were seedy and disorganized, and the neglected ponds had generated their own tiny ecosystems of duckweed and flowering fronds.  

 

This place, once shackled and rigid, was now feral and untamed. Free to do as it pleased, whenever it saw fit.

 

When Angel had finally untangled his tunic from the claws of the shrub, he walked up beside me with a low whistle. “I can see why you would want to be here instead of the main garden, my lady. It’s a real forest.”

 

I turned to him. His empathy softed me considerably. “Sometimes I just can’t stand the perfectly manicured boxed flowers. Nobody knows about this place. In here,” I brushed my hand through a patch of waist-high feather grass, “Things are _real_. The laws of nature apply, and they are brutal and forgiving all at once.”

 

Angel regarded me with warm-eyed silence before twisting to the side and gingerly plucking a wild rose from its twisting branches. He swept low into a deep bow, offering it up to me.

 

Another crack formed in my harded facade. _This damned man will be the undoing of me._

 

I accepted the flower with a curtsy, watching him rise back up to his full posture before stepping forward and tucking the soft pink flower behind his ear. “It suits you.” I murmured, standing back and admiring him with my hands on his hips.

 

There was that maddening blush again, dusting his cheekbones and the ridge of his nose. He looked away, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. I grinned.

 

“Come on, let’s have a look around!” I said, lifting my dress up a bit as I stepped over a low and untamed shrub.

 

“Anything for milady.” Angel replied. His voice sounded exasperated, but there was a smile playing on his lips.

 

And explore we did. Angel hopped around like an uncollared dog, clearly used to navigating difficult and plant-covered terrain. He picked up interesting sticks, looked under logs, and crouched to watch fish in the scummy ponds. With anyone else I would have yelled at them to stop messing up their expensive clothes so horribly, but he was just so goddamn _cute_. Didn’t hurt to watch him lift up incredibly heavy stones and throw them around like nothing, either.

 

Eventually he got his hands on a very dangerous weapon.

 

“Angel, put the cattail down.” I said, pointing at him. He was standing a dozen feet away from me, coiled to run at any moment, with a pollen-laden frond clutched in his hand. With any slight shake the front would release a little dusting of golden pollen; one whack with that and the damn thing would explode into a mess worse than a dropped scoop of flour.

 

He took a step forward, face more alive and mischievous than I had ever seen before. “Make me.” He said.

 

_Oh man_ , the little voice in my head crowed, _let’s add that to the list of ‘101 things to never say to a dom’._

 

“Alright.” I replied simply, before crouching low and leaping towards him. Angel’s mouth made a round ‘o’ of surprise, and he swung the frond at me, golden powder cutting a brilliant arc through the air. I ducked under it before grabbing his wrist and twisting it painfully. He dropped the frond, his other hand going to grab at his wrist with a startled yip of protest.

 

I laughed. “Say ‘Sorry, Milady’”.

 

Angel was a big man, bigger and stronger than me. But my sentence made his eyes go wide, and he gasped out a “I apologize, Milady.”

 

I dropped his wrist, cocking my hip as I watched him rub it with his fingers, face in a pout. “Not even a day in and you’re already disobeying direct orders from your employer, huh?” I turned around, sidling towards the overgrown weeping willow that looked over the deep center pond. “That’s a good way to get yourself in trouble.”

 

The shade under the heavy boughs of the tree was a welcome relief from the late afternoon sun, and I sat heavily down on the grassy bank of the pond, dress pooling around me. The crickets were beginning to sing their song, harmonizing with the birds and the cicadas in the one true song of summer. I closed my eyes to listen: It was so relaxing.

 

Angel plopped down in the grass beside me, picking at the blades and looking at my serene expression in silence.

 

I hummed, tilting my head. “On evenings like this, I never want to leave this place.”

 

“I wish we didn’t have to, milady.” Angel replied. I opened my eyes to see him resting his back against the trunk of the willow tree, a blade of grass in his mouth. A true country boy at heart, no matter how well groomed and alluring he was dressed up to be.

 

“Did you used to spend a lot of time relaxing like this? On the farm?” I clarified, fingernails pulling at the hem of my dress idly.

 

“No. There’s always work to do. I supposed, maybe, on quiet sunday nights when the fields are all tilled and the eggs have been collected.” He murmured. “I liked sitting on the porch and just watching the sun go down behind the jungle.” His voice was tinged with melancholy.

 

The sound made my knit my eyebrows together. “It’s clear that you love your family, and your farm, a great deal. Why leave? Why not just take a job in town?”

 

Angel’s eyes slid towards me, and he leaned away from the tree. “A regular job wouldn’t have cut it. I was already working full time on the farm, but since it was just Father and me, we were always shorthanded. The money I could make in the city wouldn’t cover the time we’d lose. I would just force my parents further into debt.” He looked out across the pond at the mess of vegetation behind it, expression sad yet thoughtful. “...Milady?”

 

“Yes, Angel.”

 

“Will you be angry if I am candid for a moment?”

 

I shoot him a small smile. “Of course not.”

 

He took a slow inhale, angling his body towards mine. “I heard about the escort service through someone at the pub. I heard about the money, the _incredible_ amount of money, and knew that it was the only way to protect my family. But you’ve asked me not to lie to you, so I won’t: I know nothing about it. I know nothing about the intricacies of court or the politics of nobles. I just signed up as willing to do anything so I could get paid faster. I assumed i’d be stuck with some cruel deviant, bored with their free time, that would do with me whatever they wished.” He paused to take the blade of grass out of his mouth, expression serious. “I _prepared_ for that. But this- _you_ \- it’s completely different. I’ve been raised with standards, and I know that I’m nothing but a nuisance to keep around without… performing my duties. You’ve already shown me incredible kindness.”

 

I take my time to consider his words, smoothing the fabric of my dress. “What exactly do you think ‘performing your duties’ entails?”

 

Angel’s throat flexes as he swallows. “We’re both adults here. I know it’s my duty under the employment of the escort service to… please you, sexually. In any way you desire.” His upper teeth worried at his lip, a subconscious habit that was currently way too hot for me to handle.

 

“I understand that you want to do your job, Angel.” I sigh, “But, see. With most escorts, they take the job because they _like_ it. They like centering their life around pleasure, they _like_ living in the palace. But for you, you took the job out of necessity. That means that you don’t _want_ this lifestyle. Would you even _want_ to…?” I trail off, looking at him with intensity. This was important. I can’t have him hiding anything from me.

 

Angel rubs the piece of grass between his fingers. “I am not… _opposed_ to it. As far as jobs go, there are far worse things to do. And I _have_ lain with many woman. I wouldn’t consider myself an expert at the craft but,” He paused, looking up at me through the threads of hair that have fallen over his eyes, “I’m sure I could be of some use to you.” In the sunset light of the evening, the exposed skin under his tunic is painted gold, his lips dripping pink in their softness.

 

_Ah, i’m so fucked._

 

I go completely still. “Angel. Look at me.” I wait to continue until he’s looking me in the eyes. “Are you _sure_ this is what you want.”

 

He stared back with a resigned calm. “Yes, Milady. I am in your service.”

 

_Well now I GOTTA fuck him_.

 

It takes me seconds to scramble to my knees, crawl towards him, and slam a hand onto his chest, pushing him unceremoniously back onto the unclipped grass of the pond’s edge.

 

“Milady-” He says, moving to rise up.

 

“Will you let me have you?” I say roughly, hovering directly over him. It’s been months, and the once-muffled urges i’ve been having come back with a vengeance. All I want right now is to take from him, touch him, make him twist and buck in my embrace.

 

His response is immediate, and enthusiastic judging by the blush that have appeared on his cheeks. “Yes.” He replies hoarsely.

 

That’s all it takes for me to press my lips to his, using both my arms to pin his wrists above his head. He groans, soft and deep, leaning into the kiss. If he’s confused by the fact that he’s on the ground and immobilized, he doesn’t show it. I catch his lip with my teeth, worrying it gently as he sighs in approval.

 

I take my hands away from his wrists to start unbuttoning his (already ruined) tunic, and his fingers immediately start to wander. Well, we can’t have that. I use one hand to pin them back as my other one continues to undo the buttons. “Hands above your head, Angel. Don’t touch unless I say you can.”

 

He nods from his position laid flat on the ground, grabbing one of his own wrists and laying them on the grass above his head.

 

When I finally get the shirt undone, I can’t help but feel a spike of arousal at the sight of him. Kiss-bruised lips, shirt open, hair in a wild halo above his head, his eyes tracking my every move. I lean my head down to plant soft kisses from his collarbones all the way down the high waist of his pants. I move back up his chest, taking his soft pink nipple between my teeth, tugging it lightly. I feel his back rise off the ground as he gives a surprised gasp. I grin.

 

“Has anybody touched you like this before?” I murmur, tweaking both his nipples with my fingers, rolling them and pinching them.

 

“No.” He sounds equal parts husky, surprised, and aroused.

 

“Do you like it?” I ask, flicking one of the abused buds.

 

“Yeh- _ees_!” His response comes out in a gasp as I sooth his abused nipples with the flat of my tongue.

 

“Ah, I see why they call you angel now.” I groan in satisfaction, licking and sucking at his neck, “You look divine under me.”

 

“Milady.” He replies in hoarse tone, opening his mouth in pleasure as I suck a prominent hickey onto his throat. _God_ , he was so responsive. I didn’t expect him to be this sensitive. He’s clearly never been paid attention to very well before; any lady that dumped _this_ was missing out.

 

Still attending to his gorgeous neck, my hand wanders down how torso, ghosting over the fabric cover his crotch. He immediately opens his legs up wide, spreading them apart for me. I smile into his neck. “Oh, good boy. You already know what I want.”

 

He whines- a sound that goes straight to my burning sex- as I open his fly, palming through his thin underclothes. Even covered with a layer of fabric I can feel his heat against my palm.

 

“Do you want me to touch your cock?” I whisper in his ear, nibbling at the edge of it.

 

“Yes, please, Milady.” He groans. _He said please. What a good boy_.

 

I pull him free from the confines of his underweath and he pulses in my grip, precum already beading at the top of his head. I weave the fingers of my free hand into his hair as I start to lazily stroke him, making his hips buck and jerk. His fancy dress shoes scrape against the grass, looking for purchase.

 

I grab ahold of his hair and pull his head forwards and away from the ground, so he can see my hand on his dick. “Look at that, Angel.” I say breathily into his ear, “Look at how hard you are for me. Look at the way you fit in my hand so perfectly. Like you were born to entertain me.”

 

His cheeks, already dusted with color, burst into a deeper red with my filthy talk. He opens his mouth in a wet gasp, keening as he starts to lift his hips, fucking into my grip.

 

“You fuck my hand so well, Angel. Does this make you hard? Being thrown to the ground, being milked?”

 

“Please, Milady.” He moans breathlessly, still holding his hands above his head like a good boy. “I’m-” He stutters as I twist my hand around his shaft in a particularly devious manner, “I’m going to cum.”

 

Seeing him laying there, eyes glazed over and thinking of nothing but fucking himself in my hand has me burning up inside. But i’ve waited months, I can wait awhile longer. This is important.

 

“Do you wanna cum?” I say, nipping at his jawline.

 

“Yes, please!” He pleads, hips starting to shake and jolt as I increase the speed of my strokes.

 

“Beg for it.” I whisper directly into his ear, tonguing the edge.

 

Angel obeys the command enthusiastically. “Fuck- god, please, My Lady, _please_ , I’m so close, may i, _please-_ ” He babbles wantonly, eyes glassy.

 

“ _Cum_.” I growl in his ear, fucking him with my hand as fast as I can. Angel cums with a silent and open-mouthed cry, back pulling away from the ground as his whole body arches, only held in place by my grip in his hair. He spurts thick ropes up and onto his own exposed chest, another decoration added to the puffy nipples and the assorted bruises. He comes down from his high dizzyingly as I prolong his orgasm with long langid strokes, only stopping with I see his lith torso start to quake from over stimulation.

 

I release him from my grasp, pulling a handkerchief out of my bag and wetting it in the pond, beginning to clean off his chest and shirt as he tries to piece himself back together. Still flushed and unsteady, Angel lifts himself to rest on his elbows, watching with hooded eyes as I tuck his cock back into his pants and begin to button up his shirt.

 

“That was… you-” He said breathlessly, looking up at me with those damn beautiful eyes.

 

“I know.” I said, finishing the last few buttons. “I have different tastes than most. You-” I pause to bite my lip as I tuck my handkerchief into my bag, “You responded to it so well. God, Angel, that was hot.”

 

“That's not what I was going to say.” He said quietly. I looked over from my bag preparations to see him resting on his side on one elbow, complexion ruddy and glowing. “I was going to say that you didn’t even get to cum.”

 

I groaned, smacking a hand over my eyes and falling down onto the grass behind me.

 

“...Milady?” Angel said apprehensively.

 

“Dammit.” I said in a resigned and convinced tone. “Now I have to keep you.” I opened my fingers to peek up at him.

 

Angel gave me a soft toothy smile. “I thought you were doing that already?”

 

“Yeah,” I admitting, sitting up and dusting myself off, “But now i’m keeping your cock, too.”

 

He ducked his head, laughing softly. “I’m perplexed that you’re coming to this conclusion _now_ and not when you were spending money on me, but I won’t argue.”

 

I smirked, stretching and hopping to my feet before offering a hand to my new boy toy. “Yeah yeah, smart guy. Come on; if we hurry the cooks might make us a little something.”

 

He accepts my hand and I pull him to his feet, straightening his collar as he runs his fingers through his messed up hair a few times. He speaks softly as I fiddle with the buttons by his clavicle.

 

“Milady, I. We could, erm.” He meets my gaze, looking almost abashed. “I wouldn’t be opposed to doing… that, again.” He surmises.

 

“Don’t you fret, I could tell.” I reply before grabbing his narrow chin with two fingers, lifting it up so I can look at his neck. Bite-mark bruises are already starting to form on his skin; i’m going to need to get him some high-necked attire. Maybe something in classic fashion, with ruffles. I release his jaw and backtrack around the tree, beckoning him with a finger. “Let’s go, Angel.” I call. It fills me with no small amount of delight when he hops to it, appearing at my side like a trained dog.

Maybe- just _maybe_. This will all work out alright.


	4. A Hot Bath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope nobody's too attached to the pretty gentle sex in this and the last chapter, because it's all a kinky uphill road from here.

This evening was much less uncomfortable than the last one. Angel seemed to have lost the nervous and uncomfortable edge he came here with, now content on letting me guide him through the turbulence of palace activities. We crept into the kitchen, dirty and covered in grass stains, and quickly had a meal of fresh bread and goat cheese at the servants table. Sitting there in my rumpled dress, smelling like sweat and sex… it was the most alive I had felt in eons. I almost couldn’t take my eyes off of Angel as he tore into his piece of bread, hair messy and tunic torn. Not only did he really step up to the plate today, he took it like a fucking champ.

 

_I think that being pinned like that really got his rocks off_ , I couldn't help but think with a pleased smile.

 

We finished our meal quickly, sneaking through the hallways and back up to my chambers. By now darkness was creeping over the city, and the whole castle seemed exhausted from the heat, everyone looking to call it an early night and go to bed. That meant nobles were wandering the halls: and if one of them saw me and my beautiful dress in _this_ state, they may just faint. Angel and I had very transparently just had a romp, and while everyone knew about the escort service, it was an under the table topic that technically wasn’t permitted.

 

We made it back to my tower without being seen by anyone but the ever-impassive and straight-faced guards. Angel self-consciously drew the open shirt of his tunic closed as he passed, unused to the palace protector’s presence.

 

As soon as the door closed to my room I heaved a sigh of relief, already relaxing at the sight of the low-burning lanterns and the heavy sound of the doorknob lock. I slipped my flats off by my bedside, stretching languidly and appreciating the breeze that was starting to waft in from my room’s window, cooling my heated neck. Angel stood by the door, disheveled and awkward.

 

I turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. “Something the matter?”

 

He blanched. “Ah, no, Milady. It’s just that… I slept in the barracks last night, should I take a bath and head back down…” He trailed off uncertainty as he watched my spreading smile and slow shaking head.

 

I crossed the room, coming nearly chest to chest with the tall man. _There’s that beautiful flush again._ Maybe the fact that he wasn’t so heavily trained as an escort was a good thing in the end: he was more open, more responsive. More honest. “No, Angel.” I said, “You made a promise to me down in the garden.” I grabbed ahold of his narrow hips, pulling them flush with mine. _Power move._

 

The red in his cheeks darkened. “I did?” He replied tentatively.

 

“You absolutely did.” I murmured, “When you bent so beautifully in my arms, you decided that you _wanted_ this. And that made me want to keep you very close to me. Your permission was all I desired.” My lips were close to his as I spoke, ghosting hot breath over his lips. To his credit he didn’t lean forward and catch my mouth: he seemed to have already grasped the dynamic that drove me wild. He doesn’t get to do anything without asking first.

 

The room was silent for a moment, the air thick with tension. “Your breath,” Angel whispered in a mock-seductive tone, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “Smells like goat cheese.”

 

In an instant the tension was broken and I burst out into a snort, moving my head away from him as I snicker. I feel his torso pressed into me spasm a bit as he huffs out a laugh as well. Eventually I released my grip on his waist, turning back to my powder mirror and taking off all my heavy jewelry. “I’m in desperate need of a bath; I smell like men and pollen. I think i’ll go draw a hot one right now.” My earrings clacked loudly as they were set back down in their bowl. Crossing over to the bathroom screen door, I hauled the gilded thing open and slipped inside, leaving Angel to his own devices.

 

The bathroom is cool and inviting, the sloping round tub built halfway into the floor in the middle. Several mirrors lined the walls, reflecting the cool blue and slate tiles of the floor and the bouquets of lavender that dotted the floors and shelves. Candles light the room with a flickering yellow light that reflects off of the many glass bottles of soaps, body butters, and shampoos that sit by the edge of the tub. I kneel down on the cold floor, pulling the taps open and watching the steaming water pour out into the massive tub below before throwing a handful of dried petals and bubbly soap into the churning heat. They fill the room with the scent of star anise and magnolias, frothing up the water with a thick layer of white.

 

When the tub is nearly full it’s finally time to pull off the sweaty and disgusting dress and underclothes, discarding them onto a nearby low bathhouse bench. I slip down into the tub with a groan, relishing the contrast of the warm heat and the cool stone as I rest my head on the lip. The bubbles tingle on my skin, covering just low enough on my chest to maintain a thin illusion of modesty.

 

“Angel?” I call out after relaxing for a few moments.

 

I hear the scrape of a chair and the heavy footfalls of my escort before his voice sounds from behind the bathroom screen. “Yes, Milady?”

 

“Are you going to come in here or not?” I say, resting my arms along the edges of the tub. I hear a small sputter, and grin.

 

“I didn’t know- ah… yes, of course Milady.” He responds, doing his best to not sound _too_ flustered. The screen door screeches open slowly, and into the low-lit room steps that beautiful blonde man who, right now more than anything, I want writhing underneath me.

 

I notice with no small amount of amusement that his gaze is averted, hands clasped politely behind his back.

 

“Suddenly shy?” I tease.

 

Angel ducks his head. “It’s just- milady is bathing. It’s horribly impolite to intrude on such an activity.”

 

Watching him blindly trying to keep to ‘high court’ standards of etiquette and honor was adorable, but not what I wanted right now. I pointed at a large blown glass bottle with a cork top. “My hair could use a wash, Angel. Go pour some soap.”

 

Ever the modest one, he quickly paced to the edge of the tub, sinking to his knees as he grabbed and uncorked the bottle, pouring a generous amount of soap into his hands. As he did so, I sank lower into the tub and dunked my head in the hot foamy water. When I emerged, I saw my escort sitting cross-legged by the tub’s edge with a palmful of soap and an expression that awaited an order.

 

I tilted my wet head back toward him. “If you will.” I said, closing my eyes. I savored the coolness of the soap as it made contact with my head, but enjoyed Angel’s strong fingers working through my hair even more so. I let out a noise of content as he scrubbed gently, scratching my scalp with his blunt fingernails as he pulled.

 

“That’s an intimidating number of soaps, milady.” He said after a moment. Even his softest and most casual tone was loud in this dark and echoing room.

 

I laughed. “Only if you don’t know what you’re doing. I guess that was the case for you when I drew you your first bath?”

 

“It was.” He admitted, running his soapy fingers down my scalp, twisting my locks, “I sat in the water for ages, just opening each bottle and trying to figure out what I was supposed to do with them. I think I poured out a handful of lotion to use as shampoo before I realized what it was.”

 

That made me grin, partly distracted by the maddening tease of his strong hands; touching low on my scalp, brushing past my ears. “Was that why you took so long?”

 

“In part.” He replied, fingers slowing from a cleaning scrub to a gentle raking, “That and I needed some time to collect myself. This whole… situation is foreign to me, but at that point I was resigned to do whatever you needed me to do.”

“Mmmm.” I hummed out in response. It made sense. _I wish I could have seen him for what he was sooner_ , I thought to myself. Not so I could reject him, but so I could assuage the fears of this gentle and desperate man. I pushed away from the edge of the tub (and those glorious fingers), stomach filled with a heat unrelated to the bath. I dunked my head, washing out all the suds into the massive bath. Angel rinsed his soapy hands in the bathwater beside me.

 

I looked back over at him as I twisted my wet hair back and away from my face. I could tell that he had been staring; what man wouldn’t, when faced with a naked woman in a bath? Angel’s lips were parted softly, and he pulled his head back slightly as I leaned over to rest my chest against the edge of the tub right underneath his seat. “Get in.” I murmured, feeling a drop of water slide down my face.

 

He didn’t need to be told twice. He hopped to his feet, struggling out of his tight pants and flinging his shirt haphazardly to the floor. As he quickly sunk into the bath, hands concealing himself (which was unnecessary but adorable), I grabbed another smaller bottle of thick rose-scented gel. Angel pressed his back firmly against the lip of the tub as I moved towards him, cutting a path in the suds.

 

“I’ll return the favor.” I tell him, cupping the back of his neck and pulling his head down, dunking it in the water. He surfaces and I immediately tackle the challenge that is his massive pile of golden hair. It’s more challenging that I thought it would be; I practically have to go section by section, working the strands from the bottom up. I run my nails across his scalp, and his body shifts next to mine. As time goes on, my work changes from a genuine attempt at cleaning his head to a delicate dance to see how good he is at waiting. I sit up higher to get the back of his scalp, drawing closer to his naked form, only separated by the water between us. I rise up, breasts hanging well above the waterline and shining in the candlelight as I work his head. His throat moved as he swallows hard, keeping his eyes averted like a good little boy. But then I press my torso against his, losing all pretense of cleaning, and he inhales unsteadily.

 

“My lady…” He says softly. I feel a hot hand rest on my hip, just underneath the waterline.

 

With a shameless smile I press my chest closer to his face, reaching around his broad shoulders and tugging his sudsy hair. “Yes, my angel?” My response elicits a huff of hot air over my breast; it’s a distinct sound of arousal. Then Angel’s patience breaks, and i feel the sharp heat of a mouth around my nipple. My shoulders jerk, and I have to place a hand on the edge of the tub for support. _Time to drop any pretenses, I suppose_.

 

I cup the back of his damp head, pressing his face into my chest with a hum. He nibbles and licks with gusto, both hands running up and down along my waist and ribs in a worshipful manner. The slick heat that I tamped down this afternoon blossoms inside my stomach, and I openly gasp. I pull his head back, looking down at his face: open-mouthed, flushed, ready for me. It’s horrible arousing. With a growl, I make up my mind.

 

I pull away from him and he whines in protest, hands leaving my sides. I push myself out of the water to sit on the edge of the tub, skin steaming. Angel waits in the water below me, shoulders and chest dusted in red as he takes in my naked form. I lean back on my hands on the cold tile floor, spreading my thighs and revealing my slick slit.

 

“Eat.” I command hoarsely.

 

Angel crawls through the water like a man starved, kneading at the inside of my thighs with strong hands before licking a broad stroke up my pussy. I gasp, jerking my hips. It’s been so long, I almost forgot what a hot tongue felt like.

 

“Milady.” He breaths reverently into my lips, spreading me open with his thumbs and attacking me with his tongue. I shake and shudder as he traces patterns up and down my sex, licking at my clit like a kitten and pushing his tongue deep into my wet hole. I clamp my thighs around his head, feeling the flush burning at my skin all over my body. This- this was _bliss._ I bring both hands down to his head, grabbing his hair and pushing him deeper into my pussy. He groans in response, deep and baritone and directly into my sex, making me issue my own moan in return. He continues his ministrations, gripping my thighs tightly and working me with all his power. The coiled heat in my stomach builds quickly, sitting deep inside my gut like a roiling flame.

 

“Shit, Angel. Make me cum.” I gasp, bucking into him. As I chase my orgasm I find myself holding his head even more tightly, leaning forward and fucking myself on his tongue, moving his head back and forth with sharp yanks. He gives those stuttering groans again, vibrating my pussy as his face is trapped between my legs.

 

“Fuck!” I cry as I break past the edge of my bliss, cumming with a shout on his tongue, legs clamped around his head. I shake as I come down from my high, slowly releasing my grip on his hair, huffing out breathy praises and heated ‘good boy’s in Angel’s direction. I pull myself upright, finally collected enough to see if my boy is doing alright. He’s still between my legs and holding my thighs in a gentle grip, eyes dazed and wide. His rosebud lips and narrow chin are slick with my juices. I wipe them away with my fingers, rolling a thumb across his bottom lip. He catches it in his mouth, sucking on it as he looks up at me.

 

“Good boy, Angel.” I breathe, a shaky smile practically splitting my face in two. If I didn't just cum so incredibly hard, the sight of him nibbling on my finger like that would have been very arousing.

 

“My lady.” He says, voice rough, pleading. He rises slowly from the water, his hands on my knees like a begging child. The bubbles shift to reveal his beautiful marked torso, and pulsing cock, swollen and hot. Even exhausted as I was, the sight makes me salivate. But my hands are cramped from gripping his hair so tightly, so I decide to take a different route.

 

“Yes, Angel. You’ve earned a reward.” I say breathlessly, brushing his cock with my toes. He bucks into the sensation, biting his lip. I smile. “Fuck your hand for me, darling. Make yourself cum.” I command.

 

Angel flushes at the order, but does as he’s told. He braces himself against one of my knees as he kneels in the bath, wrapping his cock in his free hand and hissing as he rolls his fingers over his neglected member. I watch with no small level of delight as he roughly thrusts into his own hand, twisting and moving in a way that stems from habit.

 

It’s only moments before he’s breathing raggedly and leaning heavily against one of my legs, moments away from cumming. “Mi- Milady, may I?” He says hoarsely, looking up at me through his lashes. _What a good boy, remembering to ask for permission._

 

I don’t respond for a moment, drinking in his desperate expression as he tries to stave off his orgasm. “...Yes.” I finally breath. As soon as the word leaves my lips Angel cums with a cry, bucking into the support of my thigh and shooting his load onto the wall of the bathtub, a bit of it hitting my leg. He gasps as he slows down his strokes, milking himself until he’s trembling. With a hot huff, he leans his forehead into my leg to catch his breath. I drink in his sight, this big beautiful man bending over backwards to please me, sitting at my feet. I pet his head affectionately, letting him collect himself.

 

“You did well.” I murmur as I cup some water in my palm, washing the cum off myself and pouring some over Angel’s sweaty head.

 

“Thank you Milady.” I feel him say into the flesh of my leg, muffled and worn-out sounding. It makes me chest go all fuzzy. I feel a piece of myself that’s been missing for months slide back into place as I watch Angel peel himself away from my leg and look up at me with a soft expression. _This is what i’ve been missing_.

 

“Come on, big man.” I tell him, patting his cheek before I haul myself to my feet, pausing only to uncork the bathtub and let it drain. As my feet slap wetly across the room, Angel dunks his still-soapy hair into the water, shaking like a dog. I toss him a towel as he rises, and we dry.

 

My body still buzzes with post-orgasmic bliss as I walk naked into my chamber, hunting around for some nightclothes with a dopey smile on my face. _This nightmare of a situation couldn’t have worked itself out better_ , I think to myself as I slip on a nightgown.

 

“Erm… My Lady?” I hear Angel say nervously from the door, and turn to see him leaning against the frame wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. “I hope this isn’t to be my new uniform.” The cum-haze that is making his features glow has clearly made him more relaxed, and a little cockier.

 

I throw a pretty little silk number at him, hitting him square in the face before is slides down to land in his arms. “Let me see how it looks on you.” I say as I finish putting on my night dress and jump into the welcoming sheets of my bed. They’re new, a dark silky purple: clearly the maids have come in and changed the linens while I was out today. As I lean into the plush pile of pillows behind me I watch Angel struggle with figuring out how he was supposed to put the pajamas on, relishing the dawning realization on his face when he finally figured out that I had not, in fact, thrown him a night shirt, but a babydoll romper. He looked at me with knitted brows. I smiled, gesturing for him to slip it on.

 

“Just as I suspected.” I said seriously once he had put the pretty red-satin piece of nightwear on, “You look stunning.” He did. It ran down his shoulders and clung to his waist in a mouth-watering fashion, stopping just high enough atop his thighs to provide a bit of concealment.

 

Angel gave me an unimpressed look before padding up to the bedside, laying down on it on his stomach. “I can’t decide if you are jesting or not.” He said as he tossed a wet strand of hair away from his eyes.

 

My eyes follow the smooth pathways of his body. “Trust me,” I said, tone appreciative, “I’m not.” I could just picture it. Angel with that pretty little slip hiked up around his waist, ass up and face buried in the bed pillows as he moaned wantonly, my fingers fucking into him slow and hard…. Maybe his hands restrained behind his back with my ropes…

 

I swallowed dryly. “Really not.” I repeated my statement, knowing he could see the hunger in my eyes. But it was late, and we were both exhausted, and the difficult topic of ‘hey, how do you feel about me massaging your prostate’ would have to wait for another day. I burrowed deeper under the blankets and relish their cool smoothness against my skin on this warm night. With one tired arm I pull the covers out of the way next to Angel, beckoning him to join me. He crawls in as well, pulling the sheets up over himself and immediately warming the bed with his massive body.

 

“Are you starting to see why I asked for someone willing to put up with anything?” I said to my boy, drawing him closer into my arms and pulling his head to rest on my chest.

 

“Sort of, Milady?” His breath was hot against my clavicle as he spoke; he seemed to sink right into being the little spoon. “I’ve never. How do I put this gracefully… I’ve never been ridden like that, or pinned to the floor. I’ve certainly never _begged_ like that before in my life.” He paused for a moment, and I could feel his eyelashes fluttering against my skin. “... I think I quite enjoy it.”

 

I look up at the complex ceiling of my chambers, mouthing a silent thank you to any gods that had aligned my fate in such a way that I crossed paths with this gentle man. I planted a soft kiss on top of his head, and he hummed.

 

“I promise to take care of you.” I murmured after a few minutes of silence and the distant sound of crickets. “I really do, Angel. There are things that I want… things that I _need_. But there are things that I will never take without you enjoying them.”

 

Half asleep, Angel murmured his reply. “Whatever you need, I am happy to give, Milady.”

 

I closed my eyes to the darkness of the room, trying to ignore the tiny golden fireworks going off in my chest at the magic words he just spoke. In the back of my mind, I knew he wasn’t thinking about the same things I was- _Ropes, wax, begging, aching, restraint, pain and release_ \- but it was a nice illusion to have, even for a moment. Angel was willing to be different than the others, and as I held his head to my chest and drifted off to sleep, I hoped against all hope that it would stay that way forever.

 

I had my second night of deep sleep in months, but this time, my dreams were filled with gold hair, choked baritones, and murmurs of promises never kept.


	5. Split Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (finger guns) no porn in this chapter, sorry folks. I'm saving it all for the next one, but don't worry; that means triple the fun and quadruple the smut. (this is all setup for that Good Kinky Shit)

“My lady? My lady!”

 

A muffled voice entered my consciousness. I furrowed my brow, turning my head and burying myself deep into the half-awake warmth of the body laying next to mine.

 

“Lady Esha?”

 

_That_ got my attention. That wasn’t Angel’s deep timbre that I had grown so accustomed to; that was the voice of a young girl, probably a maid waiting outside my door. A maid that knew not to disturb a sleeping noble unless it was important.

 

I stumbled out of bed and nearly tripped on my way to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open just enough to squint through with sleep-blurry eyes. True to what I thought, there was a young timid girl out in the hall dressed in a fresh apron, with a white handkerchief wrapped around her head.

 

“What?” I grunted out, trying to hide my wild hair as best as I could behind the door frame.

 

The maid looked worried. “I’m terribly sorry for waking you, my lady, but the Empress has noticed your absence at the royal court this morning, and has inquired to your whereabouts.”

 

I was immediately more awake. That wasn’t right; courtroom meetings were never held early in the morning, especially by the Empress. Not unless…

 

I gasped, flinging the door open and stepping towards the very alarmed looking maid. “Handmaiden, is the summer ball _today_?!” I squawk, nearly grabbing her by the lapels in my horror.

 

“Y-yes, Milady!” She replied quickly.

 

My stomach drops. Shit, I had completely forgotten. I absolutely _despised_ the seasonal galas; they were cesspools of nobility and royalty stroking one anothers egos while putting on airs and displays of wealth, like peacocks posturing for one another. But they were vital to the relations between powerful families, as well as the neighboring kingdoms. And there was one _tonight_? I would have to spend all day with the Empress, fawning over her and attending her every whim to make up for the time I had lost with her yesterday and this morning.

 

That would mean i’d have to leave Angel alone in a castle he was barely familiar with, with vicious nobles that could metaphorically bite his head off in an instant. He was an escort without _any_ escort training, and that meant he was not at all versed in the politics of royalty.

 

“Thank you, handmaiden.” I said after a moment of frantic thought, “Please let the court know i’ll be down shortly; i’ve had a terrible wardrobe malfunction.” It was a lie, but it was better than saying ‘ _Oh, Esha couldn’t attend court today because she was cuddling the boy toy that she’s not technically supposed to even have._ ’

 

Wouldn’t _that_ just send the consorts into a scandalous uproar.

 

I shut the door in the handmaiden’s face before hurrying back to bed, shaking Angel awake. It was a pity; he looked so peaceful and sweet, curled up amongst the blankets. I grabbed his shoulder, giving him a couple good tugs.

 

“Mmmmmnoooo…” He rumbled out, pulling away from my hands.

 

“Angel, get up.” I said tersely. Only after he had sat up in bed, yawning, did I leave his side and start changing into one of my fancier robes, pinning large decorative pearl headpieces into my hasty braid I wove standing in front of the vanity.

 

“What’s wrong?” Came a low voice from behind me. Two warm bare arms snaked around my waist, and I couldn’t help but sag back into Angel’s chest as he came up behind me. This was something I could get used to; the calm and musky smell of this man seemed to have the power to make everything okay. I just wanted to hold him forever. _But I don’t have TIME today_ , I chided to myself.

 

“I completely forgot. There’s a very important gala this evening; it’s going to take all day to prepare for it, and all night to take place.” I took a hand from my waist and brought it up to my lips, placing a gentle kiss on Angel’s knuckles as he watched from over my shoulder.

 

“I don’t know what any of that implies.” He replied.

 

“It means,” I whirl around, holding him by the shoulders and looking him up and down, “That _you’ll_ be on your own for the day. You need more clothes.” I tacked on when I realized that all I had for him to wear was his old patterned robe from the escort agency. It lay uselessly atop one of the dresser desks, practically begging to be washed instead of worn.

 

“And here I was, ready to accompany you all day in this lovely thing.” Angel retorted dryly, gesturing at his night clothes that barely covered his body. The sight of the red silk brought all the memories back from last night; his lithe body shaking under mine, the glitter of water in the candle light. The whispered promises he made in the darkness.

 

I cupped his cheek foldly, feeling the beginnings of a beard returning after his last poorly-done shave. He leaned into the touch with a puppy-like tilt of his head; a sight that shot a spike of possessiveness down my spine.  “I’m sorry,” I murmured as he rubbed his cheek idly on my palm, “I don’t want to leave you to the wolves, but duty calls.”

 

“I understand, my lady.” Angel replied, reaching around me to snag his robe off the dresser. “It would be hardly fair of you to keep me all to yourself _all_ the time, wouldn’t it?”

 

I laughed, leaning against the vanity desk to watch him slip out of his night clothes and tug the robe on. He stopped as he adjusted it around his shoulders, looking up at me with a perturbed expression. “Milady… I don’t see my underclothes anywhere.”

 

“I don’t see a problem with that. Easier access for me.” I retorted, shooting him an exaggerated wink as I walked back to the chamber door. Angel followed close behind, tripping a bit as he tried to strap on his woven sandals and walk at the same time. We left the cool reprieve of the room and climbed down the arduous sets of stairs. Even from this remote corner of the castle, the buzz of activity within the walls was evident. On the ground floor, servants and maids buzzed, hauling rolled-up rugs, massive decorative lanterns, or simply going through the arduous task of unpacking the guest china and silverware. I had to dodge to the side in one of the winding halls after nearly getting brained by man running past holding a large ornate bird stand complete with a squawking cockatoo. Angel was no luckier: he crashed right into an old woman holding a basket of laundry. She looked seconds away from chewing him out over his clumsiness, but when she saw a member of the royal congregation at his side, hurried away saying nothing.

 

As I neared the royal court, I was looking increasingly desperately for somewhere, anywhere, to pawn Angel off to so he wouldn’t listlessly roam the halls of the castle and get into trouble. I couldn’t very well force him to stay up in my room: he was his own man, after all. But I really didn’t want to be worrying about who he was accidentally offending while I was hand feeding grapes to the Empress.

 

Thankfully my salvation arrived right outside of the court doors in the form of a young man with curly black hair. I recognized him; it was Ignacio, the son of a chef in the kitchens who now worked at the castle. I had watched him grow up from a screaming little babe to a gangly twelve year old assigned to watch certain doors inside the castle halls. I gave a sigh of relief as I hurried towards the door, sandals echoing on the tiles.

 

Ignacio saw me hurrying towards him and took a step forward, eyes wide. “Milady, where have you been? The court is already discussing the final preparations for the gala tonight!” His tone was concerned: not for himself, but for me. Any negative marks on a noble’s reputation could lead to sour results rather quickly.

 

“I know,” I said breathlessly, leaning down to catch his hands with mine and summoning the full force of my Mom Energy that every woman possessed, “But Ignacio, darling, I need you to do something very important for me, alright?”

 

Angel watched me from a few feet away, arms crossed as he scanned the hall, trying to act like he wasn’t completely lost in this situation.

 

“Yes, of course Milady Esha.” Ignacio replied, curls bouncing as he nodded his head.

 

“I need you to take him-” I paused to look over my shoulder at Angel, “To the tailors. Get him fitted with something nice for the gala tonight, and take it out of my balance. I don’t care how long it takes. Actually, from now until sunset would be preferable.”

 

Ignacio looked up over my shoulder on tiptoe to peek at Angel, who confusedly raised a single hand in greeting. Ignacio plopped back down, giving me an affirmative nod.

 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” I said, relief making the knot of tension in my throat uncoil. I watched Ignacio hop on over to Angel, fancy buckled shoes clacking on the shiny floor as he unceremonious grabbed my escort’s hand to lead him away.

 

Angel looked down at the hand of the small child who was now apparently in charge of him, being pulled along with a bit of resistance.  “I thought I was to come with you, milady?” He said loudly as the distance between us grew and Ignacio dragged him down the hall.

 

I said nothing in return, just electing to wave a goodbye as they rounded the tall corner of the high-ceilinged hallway, footsteps fading. _If he came with me to the meeting, the glares of the court would have turned him into a pile of ash in seconds_ , I think to myself as I straighten my necklaces. Now that I’m this close to the court’s doors, I can hear the muffled murmur of loud chatter behind the thick wood and embossed metal.

 

_Time to face the music_.

 

With a big inhale and an unsteady exhale, I square my shoulders, push open the doors, and walk inside.

 

* * *

  


Angel may be in service to a noble, but that didn’t mean he was just going to roll over and obey anybody that directed him around: especially not this stuffily-dressed fancy child who was marching him across the castle’s smoky entry hall and towards another staircase. Angel planted his feet firmly on the ground, making the young boy nearly fall backwards.

 

“Alright kid,  I’d like to know where are we going.” He said in an  unamused tone, watching the curly-haired child tug at his arm to no avail.

 

When Ignacio seemed to realized his efforts were in vain, he huffed and pointed over at the staircase. “Milady Esha asked me to get you fitted for the royal gala, obviously. So i’m taking you to the palace tailors.”

 

This answer seemed to be good enough for Angel, as he allowed himself to continue being pulled through the crowded hall by the hem of his sleeve. “For the gala? That’s the big party taking place _here_ , tonight, right?”

 

Ignacio snorted ahead of him, not bothering to turn around as he speed-walked them up and down sets of stairs and across a decorative patio, towards an off-branch of the main palace. “ _Obviously_.” His tone was snarky. “Though I don’t know why she would want to bring you.” The last part of his response was quiet and sarcastic.

 

Angel’s brow furrowed as they both stepped out of the sun and into a smaller tiled building. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Ignacio stopped outside of a simple wooden door and released his grip on Angel’s sleeve; they had clearly arrived at their destination. “Because.” He gestured towards Angel with an open palm. “You know.”

 

“I really don’t.” Angel deadpanned, crossing his arms at the petulant young boy across from him.

 

“You’re her... _you know_ ?” Ignacio’s voice was a quiet hiss, his eyes flicking from side to side like they had suddenly started discussing a subject he didn’t want anyone overhearing. “You’re her _whore_.”

 

His comment froze Angel in his tracks.

 

His time at the castle, and even _getting_ to it, had been a whirlwind of desperate actions and navigating the choppy waters of legality and acceptance. He didn’t even stop to think about what his… employment? Actually _was. Was_ he just a whore? Is that what it all boiled down to? When people passed him in the hall, is that what they saw as he hung off of Esha’s arm; a hired toy with no other purpose than to fuck?

 

_You signed up for this. You KNEW what you were getting into_ , a reedy voice whispered in the back of Angel’s mind.

 

And it was right.

 

He distantly registered Ignacio hauling open the door and stepping inside, a little bell jingling as it did. Angel followed automatically, stepping into the large room inside.

 

It was quite obvious that he was in the right place. Mirrors lined the walls that weren’t occupied by windows or mannequins (most of which had half-finished clothing stuck on them, covered in pins and needles). In the center of the room was small platform, and off to the side was a large workstation composed of multiple foot-pedal sewing machines, a fabric cutting table, and a giant fabric rack that brushed the ceiling. A faint sound of shuffling came from the narrow door at the end of the room, which was left slightly ajar.

 

“Miss Zinna?” Ignacio called, stepping into the middle of the room and  whirling around, looking for someone. “Miss Zinna, one of the noblewomen has an urgent request!”

 

The far door slammed open and a woman (presumably miss zinna) dressed in a long and layered romper came walking out, holding a long pair of ribbon shears. Her hair, though streaked with grey, was up in a fastidious bun atop her head. “You tell that Lady Serana that I refuse to work with her again! She can go to the town tailor for all I care.” Miss Zinna said to Ignacio as she set the shears down.

 

“Not Lady Serana, Ma’am. It’s Lady Esha; She needs an outfit for the gala tonight.”

 

Angel watched awkwardly from the entryway as the tailor blinked owlishly, brows lowering. “I already finished her gown! One of my finest works, to boot.”

 

“Not for her.” Ignacio replied before pointing at Angel, who took that as his cue to step forward, “For _him_.”

 

“Ahhh, I see.” Miss Zinna stared the uncomfortable escort down with a squinted gaze. He shifted his weight uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “... I’ll make something work. I expect to be paid by next week!” She had to shout the end of her sentence at Ignacio; once he had heard her confirm that she had it handled from here, he had slowly started backing out of the room. Angel didn’t blame him. He couldn’t think of a single young adult who would willingly wait in a place as boring as tailor’s office. His attention drifted back to Miss Zinna as she turned away, rifling through what looked like a stack of paper patterns. Angel cleared his throat awkwardly before deciding to take initiative.

 

He leaned against the front desk, smiling tightly. “Hello, madame. My name is Angel. I’m Lady Esha’s-”

 

“I already know what you are.” Miss  IZinna cut him off as she stood upright, clutching a measuring tape in one hand and some wax paper clothes patterns in the other.

 

_Good_ , Angel quietly thought to himself, _because I have absolutely no idea how I was going to end that sentence._

 

“Now it’s my job to make you look presentable.” With unexpected quickness from an older woman, Miss Zinna was suddenly standing beside him, ushering him to step up onto the mirror-surrounded platform. Angel stood upon it, arms away from his sides, as Zinna took a measuring tape to nearly every part of his body, scratching down numbers on a loose paper with a quill. As he idly looked around the room- at the beautiful gowns, the loose containers of buttons and beads- he caught sight of himself in one of the closest mirrors. His hair was shiny and soft and his skin was cleaner than it had ever been on the farm. He looked like a different person with his hair down, decked in delicate robes. Like someone that could actually belong inside a castle.

 

And then he caught sight of one of the purple bruises Esha had left tucked under his jawline: a brilliant brand of ownership blossoming in hues of blue and magenta. Cheeks dusted pink, the tall man subtly redistributed his long hair over it to cover it.

 

“Alright, get down from there.” Miss Zinna said sharply, hands on her hips. "Let’s see what we have to work with."

 

Nearly an hour and a half later, Angel decided he didn’t like clothing nearly as much as he thought he did. He had been crammed into hundreds of different tunics, dress shirts, and robes in a myriad of different patterns and styles. Some of them he thought looked quite flattering on him, and he preened in front of the many mirrors. But lady Zinna would always tut or click disapprovingly and say something along the lines of ‘this washes you out’ or ‘the grain is all wrong’, and force him to go undress behind the dressing screen once more: which was an especially unnerving experience considering he had no underwear to speak of.

 

Now Angel was dressed in a simple grey cotton shirt and casual pants, feeling like an overused dress-up doll and sitting in the waiting chair in the corner. He had watched Lady Zinna leave a moment ago and was instructed ‘to under no circumstances move or touch anything.’ So he was left to his own devices, idly shaking his knee and letting his thoughts drift. He thought about the palace and it’s giant spires topped with gold leaf. He thought about the gardens. The cool shade under its trees. He thought about the warm hands and crooning words he succumbed to underneath the shade of the leaves yesterday, and the subsequent worshipful bath and red-cheeked begging that followed.

 

And then he was thinking of Esha, and his cheeks were warm and suddenly the only thought left in his mind was that he wanted so badly for her to touch him, bend him and shape him once more. These were thoughts he had never had about a woman before meeting her: they set his mind alight.  

 

The shop door burst open and Angel nearly fell out of his seat, heart racing. Miss Zinna marched in, followed by an entourage of three men and three women who, upon seeing Angel in the chair, immediately pulled him to his feet and began examining his arm length, shoe size, and waist width. _This is an alarming amount of manhandling,_ Angel thought with a stunned expression as he was led back to the platform in the middle of the room.

 

“I hope you’re ready to stay still for the next six hours,” Miss Zinna said loudly towards him as he was crowded onto the platform, a pair of hands examining his wrist circumference and- was someone taking off his shoes?- “Because i’ve brought my whole team. We’re gonna build you a costume from scratch and by the time we’re done, you’ll look like a king.”

 

Angel didn’t have time to respond, instead giving an indignant yipe as a shoe he had never seen before was shoved onto his foot.

 

_God, what did Milady sign me up for?_

 

* * *

  


_God, what is this meeting even for?_

 

I sat primly at the large round table in the center of the room and partook in the laughing chatter with the other consorts, but on the inside I was bemoaning my fate, shaking the metaphorical chains of my imprisonment in this room for the next few hours.

 

When I had crept in here a few hours ago, already cringing because I had missed breakfast,  I was immediately speared through with the glares of the other nobles. In that one moment of quietly walking to my seat, I knew that everyone in this room already knew that I had gone seeking the services of an escort; the gossip was written all over their faces. They wouldn’t overtly talk about it, of course not. But it would be their bread and butter for days, whispering behind closed doors and playing rumor telephone with one another.

 

“Esha, how nice of you to join us.” The empresses voice rang out over the room and quieted the conversation, directing all attention to me. I wanted to fold up into myself and disappear under the stares of all the meeting attendees, their forks paused in mid air from what was, in all likelihood, their third breakfast of the day.

 

I bowed deeply, seeing my own reflection in the marble flooring before I rose back to my feet. “My deepest apologies, your imperial majesty. One of the handmaidens spilled ink onto my dress on my way here, and I simply couldn't appear before you knowing I would be displeasing to your eye.” I lied through my teeth, face plastered into a smile. I’ve navigated the waters of the court for years now; fallacy was effortless.  

 

After a moment of silence the Empress waved her hand. “You are excused. Now please, sit, join us as we finalize tonight's activities.”

 

I took my seat, heart in my throat. I had escaped unscathed. I was incredibly grateful none of the nobles at the table had cracked a joke about me being ‘busy with other things’: the Empress had a nose for lies like a bloodhound, especially when they concerned her and her court. She would have rooted me out like a whippet chasing a rabbit, and torn Angel from my arms.

 

Just the thought of that made me grip a fistful of my robe in white-knuckled anger: I had only just begun to explore that beautiful submissive man and the many facets of his personality. If someone, if _anyone_ tried to ruin that before I had a chance to ruin Angel… well, hell hath no fury like a woman who's been sexually stifled for ten months.

 

The court conversation moved on to topics about the upcoming gala as even more food was brought out, but it didn’t linger there for long. In fact, I noticed that we had _done_ almost nothing at all. Most of the talk at the table was fluff; joking about the most recent fashion trends from Paris, tittering about whether or not some earl and his wife would be attending the gala because of some scandal last year. All the _real_ work was pawned off to the servers, the waitstaff and the grounds managers. So I sat there and smiled, eating a piece of cake offered from a fork that a powder-faced noble sitting beside me said was ‘simply divine!’. I chattered and laughed at the nobleman’s gossiping jokes, listen to others ridiculing those that weren’t there to defend themselves.

 

I was in hell.

 

Dancers were brought out, moving like water to the sound of lutes, and were applauded with gusto. A poet read his monologue, launching the whole table into a deeply divided conversation as to what the ‘hidden meaning’ of the piece actually was.

 

I excused myself to use the powder room for a moment just as one of the nobles was beginning to complain about a ‘disrespectful’ handmaiden he had met a while ago. I didn’t go to the powder room. Instead I rounded the corner to an empty alcove and sat on the round chair at the end of it, putting my face in my hands in exhaustion. That’s where I was left now, feeling the tight itch of my robes and knowing I was going to have to go back in there in a few minutes, smile on my face.

 

I just wanted to flip that giant table and watch the giant silver candlesticks and duck-stuffed-swan go flying, taking some of the other bejeweled and cruel noblewomen with it. I wanted to tell the whole room to take their ‘rumor-has-it’ attitudes and stick it where the sun don’t shine. Then I wanted to go back to my room and pin Angel to a wall, fucking him until he passed out, balls empty and face streaks with tears of exhaustion.

 

_God, Angel._

 

His face floated into my minds eye, cheeks ruddy and flushed, lips slick with spit; open and ready to take anything I gave him. I let my eyes close and mind drift back to last night, shutting the ambient sounds of the castle out around me. I remembered his husky voice, the way he shuddered against my leg. I could _feel_ the patterns he traced into me, the ones that helped me remember the fire I always had in my stomach. I remembered shaking, gasping as I fucked his mouth.

 

My eyes open blearily, scanning the hallway: I can’t afford to come back to the table looking _too_ disheveled, and those memories do deliciously wicked things to me.

 

I stood up, taking a moment to stretch and run a hand over my head. True, I hated the giggling politics of the court. And true, I couldn’t stand the endless routine of days filled with nothing. But I would bear it for Angel, I decided. I would hold the weight of the world on my shoulders for as long as he needed me to if it meant I could taste the salt of his skin on my lips.

 

I find myself standing in front of the courtroom doors once more. But now I am not exhausted. I am determined to smile and bat my eyes and get through the rest of this damnable pre-party until night falls, the gala begins, and I can catch Angel’s lips between my teeth once again.

 

I push the doors open and enter the music-filled atmosphere once more, a grin playing on my lips.

 

All I have to do is wait.


	6. The Gala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (me throwing handfuls of porn into the crowd): feast, my children, FEAST!

Evening fell like a blanket of starry blue skies over Yasim. But it was anything but soft, anything but still and sleepy. The city behind the palace gates was bright and active: when there was a party in the palace, there was a festival in the streets. The halls of the castle were filled with music, well-dressed nobility from all over the countryside trickling in through the main entrance, more and more of them appearing as the sky grew darker.

 

I leaned against one of the tall marble pillars by the entrance with my fellow nobles, bowing and curtsying as members of the royal family walked through the crowded and music-filled halls towards the ballroom, followed by an ever present entourage of servants and handmaidens. I ran a hand down the front of my gown, feeling the fluffy tulle underneath the silky beaded surface. After the royal court had ended several hours ago, I had been swept along with the other gaggle of noblewomen towards the tailor’s shop, all dead set on having the servants help them into their massive dance dresses. I didn’t mind; the last place I knew Angel would be was at the tailor. But when I got there, all I saw was Miss Zinna and her swarm of tailor-aids. As I was unceremoniously shoved into the decorative cage that was a ballgown, I asked where Angel had gone. She told me I had just missed him; he and one of her tailor-aids had left moments ago to find a specific pair of shoes to match his outfit. I wanted to stay, to wait for him, but the music from the main palace was picking up and that was my cue to go and stand in the hall like one of the Empress’s pretty decorations.

 

_These dress shoes hurt like hell._ I thought, covertly rolling one of my ankles and shifting from foot to foot. _From now on it’s sandals for me._ I tucked my grumpy thoughts away, smiling and curtsying at an elderly man and woman as they walked past, practically dripping in gold and precious gems.

 

Most of the guests having arrived, the large swaths of palace-attendees started to move from the glittering and bejeweled hallway and into the massive gala hall, the exuberant beat of drums and high voice of flutes already drifting out of its massive doors. With a resigned sigh I moved with the raucous crowd, making casual conversation with those that fell into step next to me.  

 

“I heard that Empress Amara brought in a troupe of performers from the next land over to perform at the ball’s zenith. Wouldn’t that just be marvelous?” A nobleman with slicked back hair tittered as he walked beside me, tassels on his robe swaying.

 

“I’m not sure if those rumors are true.” I replied, injecting vapid fascination into my voice, “It doesn’t sound nearly exotic enough for her imperial majesty’s tastes. She does have a flare for the dramatic, doesn’t she?”

 

The nobleman laughed before falling behind me a few steps to chat up the next woman nearby. I pressed down a sigh as I walked, instead choosing to fiddle with my many golden bracelets to outlet my nervous energy. The crowds in the hall nearly swallowed me up, pressing in from either side as we all moved towards the hall. I had to find a place inside me that was resigned and ready to dance with strangers for the next three hours, but my reserves of tolerance for bullshit were running low.

 

Until I saw the back of a tall blonde head moving haphazardly through the crowd in front of me.

 

_Is that… Angel?_ I wondered. The tall figure accidentally knocked shoulders with a young woman trying to pass him. _That’s definitely Angel._

 

I sped through the crowd, dodging and weaving with as much grace as one could muster wearing a meter-wide-circumference dress, ducking around elbows and apologizing for stepped-on toes.

 

“Milady!” Angel said loudly, having spotted me worming my way towards him. I stormed up, grabbed him by the lapel, and dragged him out of the main hall and down a set of stairs, away from the crowd. Then and only then, in the poorly lit smoky air of the service hall, did I actually get a good look at him.

 

“ _Hello_ there.” I said approvingly, raking his body up and down with my eyes. He was a beautiful and welcome visage: Miss Zina had worked her magic on him. He was sporting a fitted (and very high-necked) doublet and matching breeches, accompanied by lovely brown lace up boots. The whole outfit was a collage of creams, whites, and gold trim and tasseling. I noticed, with a quirk of my brow, that one of Miss Zinna’s tailor-aids had also taken the time to replacing his old earrings with little refined golden studs.

 

“Who is this mysterious new nobleman i’ve bumped into?” I murmured, a smile tugging at the edges of my lips as I ran two hands down Angel’s chest. He grinned, catching my waist in his hands. “Judging by his lovely looks and beautiful clothes, I’d say he’s named something sophisticated, like Antonio, or Angelo.”

 

“Maybe he’s just Angel.” Angel replied before bending his head down for a kiss. The gesture made the coal in my belly spring back to life, eager for contact. I bit down hard on my own lip, cupping his face in my hands and stealing a kiss much less chaste than most people would be fine with.

 

“Angel?” I murmured into his mouth, abruptly pushing the tall man against the wall, “You can’t be _Angel_. That’s an escort’s name. A name that people only cry out in the throes of ecstasy.”

 

Angel’s breath hitched. My fluffy gown didn’t stop me from pushing a knee in between his legs, lording my weight over him. He glanced nervously at the entrance of the service hall, aware that anyone could round the corner at any moment, but said nothing.

 

“Besides,” I continued, practically abusing his lips and his jaw with my kisses, “The Angel _I_ know is a trembling and begging mess who belongs between my legs. He’s no nobleman with a will of steel, right?” I pause, bringing my knee up a little higher on the wall, just enough to rest it lightly underneath his clothed crotch. “Or am I getting the two mixed up?”

 

Angel’s grip is tight on my waist. He opens his mouth, lips already rosy and soft from the abuse, to respond, but is cut off as loud sets of footsteps and chatty voices pass by the hallway too close for comfort. I drop my knee and step away from the wall, letting him up.

 

“I mean it, though.” My tone can’t mask my genuine happiness at seeing him again after such an arduous day. “You look stunning. I’m glad to see you again.”

 

“I could say the same for you, Milady.” Angel replies, composing himself before offering me an elbow to take. “Shall we?”

 

I accept, and we walk out away from the shadows and into the gala hall looking like a true nobleman and woman; me on Angel’s elbow, our backs straight and expressions placid.

 

The noise, sight, and sound is overwhelming inside the massive domed room. Couple swirl across the dance floor to the sound of the sitar, dresses and overcoats billowing. All around the room people chatter, drinking heady red wine and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres and candied fruits: it’s a veritable treasure trove of elegance and indulgence.

 

“Is this what it’s like _every_ time?” Angel murmured by my ear, low enough to not be heard by passer-byes. I sighed and nodded, wishing it wasn’t so true. The dancing was fun, the music was lovely. The people? Not so much.

 

_Speak of the devil and he shall appear._ I thought with a grimace: Angel and I were being approached by a local count and countess, colors matching in their respective dress and vest. I held his elbow tightly, a silent alert to the couple’s approach.

 

“Lady Esha!” The count crowed, approaching the both of us, “What a pleasure it is to see you again! When did we last converse, it’s been too long!”

 

“Good evening, Count Degain, it’s a pleasure to see you as well.” I said with a shallow curtsy, “I trust you are both enjoying the gala?”

 

The count and countess nodded, their jewelry jingling. “Oh we are indeed!” The countess replied, putting a hand to her chest. “The music chosen for the dance is so unique!”

 

I grimaced at her sentence. _Here we go, not even ten seconds in, and she’s already using passive language to criticize the Empress’s taste in music. That’s not a compliment, that’s a diss._ “Isn’t it?” I reply with a smile, “The sitar is such a popular instrument right now, apparently anyone who’s anyone has a musician well-versed in it.” _Counter attack successful._

 

The Countess’s brow crinkled at the implication that she just wasn’t cultured enough to understand the music.

 

“Who is this strapping you man you have with you?” The Count quickly changed subjects, eyes drifting to Angel at my side, “I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

 

Angel opened his mouth to speak. Oh no, we couldn’t have that. He’d introduce himself as ‘Angel’, a dead giveaway to his true employment.

 

“This is Angelo.” I interrupted before he could talk, placing another hand on his arm and hoping it would convey to him that i’d handle this, “He’s an old friend from the neighboring city. I just _had_ to invite him to the gala: who can resist such a marvelous party?”

 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintances, Sir and Madam.” Angel said in a more prim and proper voice than I had ever heard him use before. He bowed carefully at the waist, executing the timing and duration flawlessly. I had to school my face to not look surprised in front of the countess, instead electing to hold Angel’s elbow a little more closely and hope he understood my approval.

 

Once the conversation of veiled jabs between us and the countess was over, Angel and I puttered around the ballroom, fulfilling my quota of ‘people talked to’ and ‘royalty chatted up’ for the evening within the hour. On the inside I was fading quickly, sick of smiling at man after man that did nothing but leer at my tight bodice and make offhanded comments about things they didn’t like about this palace.

 

I was nearly ready to drag Angel out of the ballroom by force when the sitar slowed, music changing from fast and bright to slow and melodious, flute and violin filling the air. It was a slow dance song.

 

“Feel like dancing?” I said to Angel, who had a cocktail shrimp halfway into his mouth. He nodded, chewing as fast as he could as I let him to the ballroom floor, taking his arm and putting it around my waist as other couples around the room did the same, waiting for the main music to begin.

 

“Just one problem, Milady.” Angel said, eyeing the other men around him and copying their stance as best as he could, “I have no idea how to dance.”

 

I smiled as the violin and flute began their slow and sonorous duet, the dancers on the floor beginning to move. “It’s very simple, you just need to follow my lead.” I replied soothingly. “Two steps to the right,” I dictated as we moved with the crowd, “Two steps to the left, and slowly moving in a circle around the room as we go.”

 

The first minute or so was a mess, Angel accidentally going left when we were supposed to go right, seeming to almost fight my instructions. His face was marred with the frustrated dip of his eyebrows and downturn of his mouth.

 

“Angel, stop.” I said softly, pulling his body closer to mine as we danced slowly across the floor, blending in with the others, “You’re always trying to lead. But you don’t have to; sometimes you don’t know how, and that’s alright. Let me take control.”

 

He looked down into my eyes, face relaxing as he drank in the deeper meaning behind my words. Something in his stance shifted from aggression to concession, and our movements together as one became more fluid. Our heads close together and feet moving in tandem, it felt… intimate. Personal.

 

“Let me take care of you.” I murmured by his ear.

 

“But that’s supposed to be _my_ job.” He replied softly, golden hair spilling over his shoulder as we completed our first circle around the ballroom.

 

“You have to trust me, Angel.” I said quietly, using the thumb of my hand intertwined in his to rub at his fingers. “Let me lead you. Touch you.”

 

Angel’s breathing deepened at the implications beyond just dancing. My smile widened at the lascivious game I suddenly wanted to play.

 

“I want to, Angel. Touch you, that is. All over, all the time. Pin you to the floor, mark your body with bruises like my own signature so that everyone knows you’re mine forever.” My words were honeyed, soft enough that only he could hear them.

 

Angel’s step faltered for a brief moment; I could see how the muscles in his throat constricted as he desperately tried to focus on the dance in front of the whole gala.

 

“Does that make you hot, Angel? The idea of me bending you until you break, making you warm and wet and needy under my touch? Getting you hard and not caring who sees, because you belong to me?”

 

“Milady, _please_.” He said hoarsely. The plea was a mix of two desperations: his worry of my dangerous game in front of the royalty, and the need to stoke the arousal building in his stomach. I knew that if I kept pushing him in this direction he’d be hard as a rock in the middle of the room: and as much as the idea of showing him off was appealing, it wouldn’t be the smartest move. I slowly peeled us away from the circle of dancers, blending us back into the crowd and leading him through the gala onlookers, holding his hand and making a beeline for the open doors into the shadow of the courtyard.

 

I pulled him out into the cool night air, stars glittering above me as the music faded away, only rounding one corner before slamming him against a pillar that upheld a massive gazebo. Angel was all hands, touching my arms, my waist, kissing me in earnest. The fabric of my gown and his outfit rasped against one another as I pressed into him, feeling the plains of his torso underneath the stiff fabric of the doublet.

 

“What a _slut_.” I crooned, palming his cock over his pants. He was painfully hard, warm even under the layers between us. “Aren’t you, Angel?”

 

“For you, Milady, yes.” He gasped as I unzipped him, rubbing fingers up and down his hot length.

 

“ _Only_ for me, right?” I purred, pulling down the tight neckline of his doublet to lick the old bruises on his neck.

 

“Only for you.” He breathed as he bucked into my touch. Angel slung his arms over my shoulders and locked them around my neck for support as I licked my palm and began to slowly stroke him. His breath was hot on my neck, his head bent forward and eyes glassy.

 

Without warning there was the sound of two pairs of footsteps emerging from the gala entrance a dozen feet across the yard. _Shit_ , I thought, but continued to stroke Angel up and down even as his eyes widened in fear. It wasn’t likely that anyone would be taking a walk right now, but there was no reason to stop playing with my boy toy yet. I’d be damned if a simple party goer was going to stop me from turning my escort into putty in my hands.

 

The footsteps drew closer to the gazebo, only a few feet away from us, separated only by a few stone pillars. Angel whimpered as I twisted my hand around his cock, and I slapped a hand over his mouth, refusing to stop.

 

“Any sign of him?” One voice said from the other side of the pillar, gruff and sharp. _A guard, in all likelihood._

 

“No, but keep making the rounds.” Another equally gruff voice replied, “It might just be some villager who snuck onto the palace grounds, but if it’s not we have a real problem on our hands.”

 

Angel’s hands dug into my neck as he shallowly thrusted into my grip, whines muffled underneath my fingers. He looked up at my eyes in a silent plea, and I grinned: could it be that being this close to being discovered, only feet away from a scandal, was getting him off?

 

“Have you notified the Empress about the intruder?” The first guard asked.

 

“Notified her?” The second one snorted, “Who do you think sent us out here in the first place? If she’s concerned, then i’m concerned. Come on, let’s get moving. The lower tunnels aren’t going to examine themselves.”

 

The two pairs of footsteps departed, one walking so close to us, only a pace away, that Angel’s body started to shake, his cock pulsing in my hand. As soon as the footsteps were gone I yanked my hand from his mouth, his beautiful whines and half-whispered pleas spilling from his lips once more.

 

“I can’t believe you!” I said incredulously as I sped up my strokes on his cock, “That really got you off, didn’t it? Maybe I should start fucking you in places that people could see. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

 

Angel moaned, teeth clenched. He was very close; the fact that we had almost been discovered had really gotten him riled up. “Ah- Yes-!”

 

“Maybe I’ll invite a maid up to my room, make her watch while you jerk yourself off at my feet, begging to cum.” I hissed before wrapping a hand around his throat, pressing down on it in the heat of the moment.

 

I _didn't_ expect the reaction that would get. Without warning Angel was cumming, body writhing against the pillar as he spurted all over the stomach of my gala dress, panting. I released his cock and my grip on his neck, watching him slump against the cool stone behind him.

 

My fingers went to the plain of my stomach as I stared at the pearly white ropes that decorated the fabric. “Oh Angel,” I said, tone quiet and hard, “You _really_ messed up.”

 

Still breathing heavily, Angel pulled his head up, looking at me with a questioning expression. I pointed to the mess on my stomach. He blanched. “I’m so sorry, Milady, I-”

 

I held a hand up. “Nope. You don’t get to be sorry. You made a mistake, and now you have to fix it.” I made my voice stony and coldly furious, even if it didn’t match the heat that was threatening to consume me from the inside out. Angel looked at me wide-eyed, having no idea what he was supposed to do. I unceremoniously grabbed the hair atop his head and pushed him downwards. He instinctively fell to his knees, massive form level with my abdomen. “Clean. Your. Mess.” I said, each word pointed.

 

Finally it clicked with him. He held my waist softly for support, leaning forward and licking his own fluids off my dress with long laps of his tongue. I kept his head firmly against my stomach, fingers still woven into his hair, until the front of my gown was clean, albeit damp.  Only then did he get to stand up, looking down at me with a deep red flush spanning his cheeks.

 

“I hope you know we’re not done.” I said quietly after a few minutes of silence as the crickets in the summer night chirped around us. “What did you do right before you came, every time I’ve taken your orgasm?”

 

Angel bit into his bottom lip. “...I’ve asked permission first.”

 

“And what did you do this time?”

 

“...I didn’t ask.”

 

I sighed like a schoolteacher dealing with a rowdy student. “Well, at least you know where you made your mistake.” I turned heel, marching across the courtyard towards a low lit hallway, intent on heading back to my room. My fingers tingle, an excitement burning low in my throat at the plans I have for my beautiful man: the things I wanted to do to him were immeasurable and cruel, and now I had the perfect excuse. “Come on, Angel. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

 

“Yes Milady.” He replied breathlessly, trotting behind me like a dog brought to heel.

 

Oh, I was going to enjoy this.

 

* * *

 

The second the chamber door was locked I was on him, kissing him forcefully as he stumbled backwards under my assault. I lined him up just right: his knee hit the seat of a high-backed chair and his leg buckled, naturally falling into it. Angel started to get up, ready and raring to go another round, but I shoved him back down.

 

“Stay.” I commanded. He stayed, eyes wide and arms resting on the armrests.

 

The sight practically made me salivate: I wanted to see him jump through more of my hoops, bend to more of my commands. “Strip, Angel.”

 

I rummaged around in my cabinet as he unbuttoned his starched doublet, wiggling out of his outfit to reveal those broad shoulders and muscular thighs I loved so much. His dick was already at half mast, a sight that made me grin. He seemed to love obeying orders as much as I loved giving them.

 

I took off that irritating ball gown and returned to him wearing nothing but my thin linen underdress, holding the coil of red rope I hadn’t been able to get off of my mind for ages. _This is where it gets difficult. This is where, last time, I was mocked for my interests._

 

“Are we tying something up, Milady?” Angel’s tone was cocky, but its commanding tone was undercut by how eagerly he displayed himself for me, torso littered with faded hickies.

 

“Yes.” I bit my lip, taking a deep inhale to compose myself. “Angel, I want to tie you up.”

 

His blonde eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. “...Come again?”

 

I twisted the length of cord in my hands as I slowly approached him in his chair. “Do you trust me? Have I ever done anything to you that wasn’t chasing your own pleasure as well as mine?”

 

“No.” His voice was a soft rumble: unsure, but open.

 

“Then let me tie you up. I promise, you will enjoy this.”

 

Angel nodded, swallowing dryly. That was all the permission I needed, diving into the task of securing his wrists, waist, and ankles to the chair around him and rendering him nearly immobile. My skin ghosted his as I worked around his body, pulling loops of cord through itself and making Angel shiver. As I fastened his ankle to the wooden chair leg, I ran my fingertips up the length of his thigh and rested them on his pelvis, just an inch away from where he truly craved them. Angel let out a suppressed exhale, swallowing hard as my nails bit into the skin of his lower stomach, dragging lightly and leaving pale red streaks on his soft flesh.  

 

I stood, admiring my handiwork. It had been.. _Eons_ since I had the opportunity to do this, but if that time was spent waiting for this muse then it was worth it. Angel was locked into the chair, torso crisscrossed with soft red that clung to him like a net and bound him to the carved wood behind him. I even went so far as to fasten each thigh, making bucking upwards impossible: it was worth it to see that woven cord biting tight into his skin.

 

“How do you feel?” I asked him, arousal coloring my voice.

 

“Secured.” He replied, almost trying to be light-hearted despite his erection from my teasing.

 

The tight ropes around his muscled arms sent bolts of arousal down my spine. I stood a foot in front of him and idly ran my hands down my own torso, cupping my breasts and rubbing my thighs. Angel watched me with keen interest as I pinched my own nipples, emitting a soft exclamation at the tender pain.

 

“Touch me.” I whispered, giving him heavily-lidded bedroom eyes.

 

With an assured smile, Angel moved forward to grab my waist. He tried to, anyways. His shoulders moved less than an inch away from the wood, his hands unable to touch my aching body from their fastened prisons. His lips parted slightly, brows raising as the cruelty of his punishment slowly dawned on him.

 

“Angel, _touch me_.” I said more forcefully, closing another inch between us and standing between his legs, softly cupping my mound through the thin linen of my dress.

 

Angel exhaled hard through his nose, straining once more against the ropes. His fingers wiggled as they tried to reach for my dress, even just to touch it. I was holding myself so tantalizingly close to him, all wet lips and gentle pleas to be pleasured… but I was _just_ out of reach. Angel gave a deep-throated growl of frustration. He may be a strong man, but not strong enough to fufill my commands.

 

“Do you see, now?” I said in the same soft tone, inches from his grasp as I slipped a finger inside myself. He watched my hand like a hawk, face flushed as he realized how powerless he was.

 

“My lady, please…” He tore his eyes away from the finger I kept curling inside of myself to give me a pleading look. His cock was swollen and heavy, a bright red at the tip. My smile turned wicked.

 

“No.” I said simply, adding another finger inside of myself and sighing in pleasure as I stroked my own walls. “This is your punishment.” Then I hit a particularly delicious spot and I keened aloud, resting a knee on the wood of the chair between Angel’s legs and only centimeters away from his cock. I fingered myself faster, grinding my clit into the palm of my hand and holding the back of the chair for support, effectively hovering over Angel’s prone form.

 

He groaned like I was torturing him, face flushed and dick twitching: I was just a few inches away from falling into his body, mouth right next to his and dripping slit right by his cock. But it was a distance he could not close. I rutted against my own hand, swearing breathily and panting into Angel’s ear.

 

“Please…” He groaned in that baritone voice. The sheer _want_ in his tone sent me over the edge, and I shuddered and shook from my place above him, cumming all over my own fingers. The sight made Angel jerk in his seat, instinctively trying to grab me, touch me to no avail. I slid my fingers out of myself, holding the three slick digits up as they glistened in the lamplight. After a brief moment I placed them in front of my escort’s invitingly soft lips. He strained his head forward, lapping at them as best as he could. The sight made me smile and unceremoniously shove them deeper into his wet and inviting mouth. He sucked them in deeply, and I could feel his skilled tongue work around and in between them, cleaning them of my own fluids. The sight itself, seeing him bound and flushed and sucking on my fingers like he was working a cock… it was enough to make another wave of heat  move through my torso.

 

“Good boy.” I breathed, pulling my fingers from his mouth. Still slick with saliva, I reached down and wrapped them around his neglected length. He let a choked moan at my languid and lubricated strokes, clearly trying to buck up into them but unable to move.

 

“You tell me when you’re close, alright?” I said softly, and Angel nodded enthusiastically, eyes half lidded and mouth open in utter pleasure.

 

After another minute his toes curled. “Milady i’m so close- i’m so-” He told me roughly, wriggling in his bindings.

 

I grinned at him; an expression that was borderline sadistic. Angel’s worry showed on his face through the haze of pleasure. I gave him a few final strokes, then let go immediately, bringing him to the edge of an orgasm but not letting him actually cum.

 

“Wait, no-” Angel sputtered, hands clenching as I left his side. “My lady, please.” His fragmented and desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as I walked away, flopping down on the bed and picking up a book from my bed stand like it was just another weekday night, leaving Angel with a leaking cock all by himself in the middle of the room.

 

I waited several minutes on the bed, just sitting and reading my book as I ignored his wheedling, which eventually turned to making promises, that then turned to the occasional quiet groan of need. He stopped protesting every minute or so when he realized that I wasn’t coming back.

 

Just as his erection began to flag I hopped off the bed, returning and kneeling between his knees, taking his cock between my lips and showering it in long sucks and flat lathes of my tongue. Angel choked out a relieved ‘thank you’, letting me know only a few moments later that he was about to cum.

 

I pulled my mouth from his blood-heavy cock, walking away once more. Angel gave a long groan, trying to pull free from his binds in frustration and letting his head fall back on the headrest when he realized he could not. I sat on my pillows and listened to his hoarse begging start up once more. This whole time, he could have just asked me to stop and I would have. _But he hasn’t_ , the voice inside my head whispered to me smugly, _because he’s a kinky boy who gets off on this_.

 

I turned the page and continued to read as Angel pleaded to no avail.

 

I teased him for more than an hour, occasionally coming to sit between his legs only to leave right before he reached his peak. But that didn’t stop me from reaching mine several times. Angel watched with a strained and desperate expression as I fingerfucked myself on the bed while reading, cumming more than once.

 

By the time we were two hours in, my escort was a mess. A shaking, sweaty, and exhausting mess. His throat was hoarse from pleading, his poor cock kept on edge for so much longer than he was used to. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck and over his flushed chest. I snapped my book shut and crawled from the bed once more. Angel seemed to vibrate as I drew closer, whimpering softly. His eyes were rimmed with red. I was sure that if i left him alone with an unfinished orgasm one more time, he would actually start to sob, broken by the edging.

 

He babbled roughly as I knelt once more, pleas of ‘god PLEASE just touch me’ melting into near-incoherent ‘thank you’s as I stroked his length and sucked at the head of his cock. He huffed and keened and _whined_ as I took him deep into my throat, his sounds of distress doing all sorts of sinful things to me.

 

I popped off of his cock to speak, using both my hands to stroke him. “You tell me when you’re going to cum.” I reminded him.

 

My command made him sob weakly, face tight as my lips touched his cock head once more. “ _Please,_ just let me cum- please, oh fuck, i’m been so good- please My Lady, I just-” His fingernails bit into the wood of the chair as I fondled his sac, saliva dripping down his length as I sucked him. “I’m so close, please don’t- please don’t-” The words became his mantra as he toes the edge of an orgasm once more, only seconds away.

 

I pull my mouth off his dick, but continue to relentlessly stroke it. The view from my seat on the floor is stunning. Angel’s thighs, chest, and neck are flushed as he whimpers each time my hand travels down his length: his expression is hazy and out-of-it, unable to focus on anything but chasing his orgasm.

 

_I’ve really found the one, haven’t i?_ The thought intrudes into my brain and makes my heart swell as I watch the man above me pant and uselessly shake.

 

“Okay, sweetheart.” I say, looking Angel in the eyes, “Cum for me now.”

 

Angel cums, and it practically breaks him.

 

His whole body spasms, head flinging back and eyes rolling upwards as he experiences what is probably the most violent orgasm of his entire life. He paints his own stomach with a gratuitous amount of seed as he cries out in a low scream, spurting haphazardly as I continue to stroke him. When he starts to come down from his high, his head sags, and I can see the shiny streaks of tears down his bright red cheeks. As soon as the wave he is riding starts to subside, I get up from my seat on the cold floor and press soft kisses into his arms and legs as I work to quickly untie him.

 

“Good boy, Angel, so good for me. So good. You did so well.” I murmur sweet nothings as I free his body from his restraints, kissing the red indents and abused skin where rope once lay. My beautiful boy toy is practically a big pile of jello, breathing hard and sagging in the chair. I slowly get him to his feet, shakily walking him over to the bed and getting to rest his back on the pillows. He looks exhausted, but shoots me a genuine (if weak) smile to let me know he’s alright.

 

I fetch a wet washcloth from the bathroom and sit on the plush bed sheets, taking my time in wiping the sweat from his warm skin and cooling cum from his flushed abdomen. The places where the rope really bit him, around the wrists and ankles, get special attention. The cool and delicate touch of the cloth and my butterfly-soft kisses seem to bring him out of his post-orgasmic haze a bit. He makes a noise of complaint as he rolls one of his wrists, stretching it out and looking over the red lines left by the ropes.

 

“That may very well have been,” He turns his head to face mine, wonder in his eyes, “one of the most intense things I have ever experienced.”

 

I grin and snuggle in closer to his body, running the cloth over his chest once more. “So you’re saying you enjoyed it?”

 

Angel flushed delicately: not out of arousal, but out of embarrassment. “I’m not sure if that word can completely encompass how I feel.”

 

“What do you mean?” I asked.

 

He looked away from my gaze. “When you touched me, in the garden… I’ve never reached my peak so quickly. Not with any other woman; even under the skilled tongues of the paid whores in the city.” Angel paused to run a hand down his face, brow knitted as if he was deep in thought. “I. You held me down, and I liked it. You made me cum in the middle of a public place, and I loved it. You tied me to a _chair!_ ”

 

His voice was riddled with incredulous disbelief that made a smug smile flit to my face, joy slowly unfurling in my chest as I realized I was watching a man discover that he was, indeed, a kinky bastard.

 

“...And I want you to do it again.” He said softly after a moment. Angel turned to look at my beaming and proud expression, searching my eyes for any hint of disapproval. When he didn’t find any he leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on my lips. For once it wasn’t a wet and desperate one, or a hot and needy one. It was a gentle kiss. A thank you, an acceptance.

 

He pulled away, expression soft and open and _honest_ and I found myself blushing like a little schoolgirl. Angel tucked his hair behind his ear and winked at me with mock-suavity before pushing himself off the bed and donning the red night-clothes he had discarded this morning. But now he didn’t wear them with tentative hesitation at their short and sexual nature; he donned them like he belonged in them. I watched him appreciatively as he moved around the room, extinguishing candles and plunging everything into darkness save for the sliver of moonlight through the window. The fact that the little red silk babydoll brushed the tops of his thighs every time he moved didn't hurt either.

 

Angel crawled back into bed and into my arms, pulling the covers up and over both of us before resting his head against my chest. His stubble prickled at my throat and I giggled; it tickled like hell. He gave a low chuckle in response, wrapping an arm around my body and pushing his face deeper into me until I had to shove it away, unable to stop laughing. My fingers closed around his shoulder and I felt the shallow indent of where the cord had really bitten into him from all his straining; and in the dark, some of my deepest fears came back.

 

“Angel… I didn’t really hurt you, did I?” I whispered into the night.

 

Angel’s arm tightened around my waist. “No, Milady. No more than I wanted you to.”

 

“You _promise_ you’ll tell me if I do? Ever?” I cup the side of his face with a free hand, “You’ll tell me to stop if I do _anything_ that scares you, or that you don’t wish to be done to yourself?”

 

Soft lips graze my forehead, reassuring and gentle. “I swear on my life.”

 

_There’s that warm feeling again_. As I cling to Angel’s broad form, tired and sweaty and happy, a lingering thought in the back of my mind says that this man may be more than just a secret escort to me. But that’s a thought for another day.

 

I bury my head in Angel’s shoulder, lost in his scent, and drift off into a quiet and gentle slumber.


	7. Night Summons

 

I wouldn’t be alive if I wasn’t such a light sleeper.

 

It was the early hours of the morning: the sky was still star-speckled and the castle was silent below my tower. Silent for the most part, anyway. I was roused from my sleep by a metallic clatter. Not loud enough to send me bolting awake; just enough to drag me into sleepy consciousness, vaguely aware of my surroundings. In my hazy state I listened, waiting for another noise. When I heard none I let my eyelids flutter shut, drifting off to sleep once more.

 

But then came a soft ‘thud’: the sound of a footstep by the foot of my bed fumbling over the coil of red rope I had left on the floor last night.

 

I sat straight upright in my bed, rubbing my eyes as the covers fell around me, blinking hazily in the darkness of the chambers.

 

It took me a few seconds (the light of the moon was faint and the curtains were thick), but then I saw it. The black outline of a figure, feet away from the edge of my bed.

 

As soon as it saw me looking it lunged towards me, and I saw a flash of steel. My mind flashed back to the courtyard outside the gala.  _The guards were looking for an intruder_. 

 

I screamed at the top of my lungs and jolted away, throwing myself against the headboard as a knife plunged down into the middle of the bed where my legs were seconds before. Before I had a chance to react, before the shadowed figure could even pull the knife from the mattress, he was tackled to the unforgiving stone floor by a manic flurry of blonde hair and red silk.

 

With a loud growl Angel bore down on my assailant, trying to wrestle him to the floor in the nearly dark room. I fumbled on all fours across the bed to run, to find the guards in my blind fear. The assailant slipped from Angel’s grasp, making it forward a few feet before big arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him to the ground.

 

My heart was racing, pumping so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. I flung open the door and ran to the top of the long winding stairs.

 

“Guards! Quickly! Help, _Guards!_ ” I hollered down the endless spiral, voice high and broken with terror. There was a distant commotion several floors below and the far-off clank of running armor as the night-watch ran to assist my pleas. Wait. _Angel_.  I spun on my heel and darted back into my room, night dress billowing around me. It felt like it took eons to reach the door, to push it fully open. Like I had all the time in the world to think about how Angel may have been overpowered the second I left the room. That I may now be greeted with the sight of a pool of wet red on the floor, having lost him forever.

 

I was panting wildly as I sprinted through the doorway, the long yellow column of light from the hall illuminating the room inside. In the dead center, to my shaking relief, was Angel: sitting astride a pinned assassin, thighs holding him to the ground and arms constantly fighting his near-feral thrashing. It seemed to be taking all his focus and all his strength to keep him there. I took a step closer, heart still beating wildly as I stared at the man who tried to kill me in my sleep. My foot bumped against something cold: I glanced down to see the knife that nearly stabbed me to death laying discarded on the floor, and snatched it up.

 

“Mala i jana de’u!” The Assassin hissed from under Angel’s grip. Angel grunted through gritted teeth as the assassin gave a particularly violent buck.

 

My stomach dropped. “You speak Nepali?” I said, voice thin and confused. If this man spoke _that_ language, then…

 

Angel’s concentration seemed to break, looking up at me in a subconscious reaction to my frightened tone. In that split second of weakness the assassin tossed him off his back, sending him flying into the bed foot-board, before lunging at me like a wild animal.

 

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact, and wildly swung the butt of the heavy dagger through the air. There was the low ‘crack’ of metal connecting with bone quickly followed by the heavy thump of a collapsing body. My eyes snapped open as I continued to hold the dagger with a shaky grip, knees knocking together. The assassin lay on the floor: a figure dressed in all black and passed out cold from the blow.

 

There was the sound of commotion out in the hall, the clank of armor and the loud shouting of guards. They were seconds away.

 

Moving purely on preservational instinct I dropped the knife, sprinting over to Angel and helping him get to his feet. He had a thin gash on his cheekbone and looked like her was favoring his ribs, but he took the hint and started to move forward. “Hide as best you can!” I hissed as we stumbled to the bathroom doorway, Angel falling unceremoniously inside as I slammed the divider shut.

Just as the gilded screen was closed, three guards came barreling through the doorway, swords brandished and looking ready to fight. They saw the body lying prone on the floor next to the shining dagger before they saw me, for all intents and purposes, looking like a trembling fawn about to crumple in fear.

 

“Milady, are you alright?” One of them said in a panicked tone, sheathing his weapon and hurrying over to me, looking out through the eye-holes in his helmet in concern. The other two guards knelt by the fallen figure and wasted no time checking his pulse before grabbing his limp form by either arm in a secure grip.

 

“I’m- I’m okay, yes, I’m fine.” My voice was shaking something bad, my palms sweating as the final shocks of adrenaline began to work their way from my system. Now I was more nervous about the fact that a palace guard was two feet away from my very-illegal-to-have escort, separated only by a flimsy metal screen. The guard offered a forearm to me, adhering to the rules of conduct of how to treat nobility despite me being dressed in only a nightgown and looking like a terrified raccoon. I took it gratefully, happy to lean on him and get some weight off my trembling legs.

 

“You were attacked. What happened?” The guard inquired, helping me to a wooden seat by the edge of the room like an old lady: the same wooden seat I had tied Angel to only hours before. I gulped dryly, and made up my mind: Angel wasn’t going to be part of this. I would play the role of delicate noblewoman who happened to escape the clutches of death by mere chance. I would be the scared little girl who wanted to be saved.

 

“I-there-” I was much less panicked than before, but injected more fear and nerves into my tone, selling my anxiety. “I was just sleeping and- and I heard a noise and this _man_ came at me with a- a knife. He tripped on my s-sash and I ran to get the guards before trying to close the door on him, keep him t-trapped inside my room..” I paused and crumpled my face, appearing on the verge of tears, “B-but he _lunged_ at me- h-he lost his balance and slipped… and- and he fell and hit his head. Oh, I w-was so _scared!”_ I blubbered, drawing my arms up to my chest.

 

“It’s alright, Milady. You’re safe now, he’s going to the dungeon.” The guard comforted me. “Do you have any idea how he got in?”

 

That was a good question. _He couldn’t have just walked past the guards stationed at the bottom of the tower. So how…?_ The guard and I scanned the room quietly. Then my eyes landed on the dull reflection of cast iron in the corner of my stone windowsill. I pointed at with a shaking finger. The guard hurried over to it, grabbing at it and pulling a black grappling hook from the end of my window. Attached to it was an incredibly long length of cord that seemed to just keep coming, no matter how much of it the guard pulled up.

 

 _He climbed up my tower_.

 

The guard’s eyes were grim as he inspected the wickedly curved tips of the grappling hook before turning back to me. “Lady Esha, please come with me down to the courtroom. I’m sure the Empress will want to discuss this immediately.”

 

I schooled my eyes against flickering to the bathroom screen door. Angel was silent and the guard seemed to have no idea he was there, but he was _hurt_ and more than anything I wanted to make sure he was alright. “I’ll join you at the court. I’m alright now, I just need to put on something more suitable.” I said, hugging my own arms tighter around my chest for emphasis.

 

The guard stiffened at the realization of how improperly I was dressed. “Of course, My Lady. Please come down to the court as soon as you can.” With a bow he left the room as quickly as he could, grappling hook clutched in his hand.

 

I waited stiffly on the chair for the footsteps to start descending the stairs before bolting up and slamming the door, and running into the bathroom. Angel was propped up against one of the walls with a dry towel pressed against his cheek, jumping in alarm as I threw the golden divider open and flooded the room in the dim light of a freshly-lit candle. I was immediately next to him, down on my knees by his side on the tiled floor.

 

“Are you alright?” I asked him worriedly, hands fluttering over his shoulders and chest in worried movements, a lump in my throat at the thought of him waiting here alone in the dark.

 

Angel pulled the towel away from his congealing cut and shot me an assuring (if exhausted) half-smile. “I’m alright, just a bit bruised up. Are _you_ alright? You just had an assassin sent to kill you!”

 

“I’m fine,” I replied, stroking his uninjured cheek with the back of my hand, “He didn’t lay a finger on me, all because of you. You were amazing… how did you learn to fight like that?”

 

Angel catches my hand and presses it against his lips, sitting up a little straighter against the wall before speaking. “I’ve dealt with my fair share of thieves and raiders, being raised on the outskirts. You have to learn to be quick if you want to defend what you care about.”

 

My nervous looking-over of Angel’s slightly bruised body slowed as I registered the sentiment buried within that sentence. He smiled once more as our eyes met. On impulse I leaned forward, planting a soft kiss in the middle of his temple.

 

“I have to leave. This whole situation is going to blow up, I can just feel it.” I say softly, getting to my feet. Angel follows me out as I rummage around for a simple one-piece robe to wear.

 

“I’ll come with you.” He replied, grabbing his gala clothes from the floor. He winced as he leaned down, putting a hand over his bruised ribs.

 

I turn to him, pulling the clothes from his hands. “Absolutely not. What am I supposed to say? That you happened to be at the castle at this time at night and somehow got up here before the guards did?”

 

Angel, uncharacteristically rebellious, took the wrinkled clothes right back. “No. I’m staying over in the guestrooms for the next few days. I traveled here from the neighboring kingdom for the gala, remember? I heard the commotion of the guards in the halls and followed them to the courtroom to investigate.”

 

I raised my eyebrows at his elaborate story before looking pointedly at the long thin cut on his cheek. The wound was clearly fairly fresh.

 

Angel’s lips quirked. “Accident with a shaving razor before bed. I’ve never been very good with it.”

 

This story is incredibly unlikely… but it’s passable. I look up at Angel with no small level of approval. “You’re a conniving little man, aren’t you?”

 

Angel takes this as an all-clear, and immediately loses the red baby-doll pajamas and starts shoving his legs into his tailored gala outfit bottoms. “I’m hardly _little_.” He replied, struggling to pull the leg over his calf.

 

“You are when you’re on your knees for me.” I toss back casually. Angel’s precarious one-legged balance falters in response to the comment. I smile as I stand by the door-frame, tying my robe’s sash securely around my waist while watching him hurry to button up his outer vest. “This is a stupid idea, Angel. Are you certain you’re ready to lie in front of the Empress?” I press.

 

“I’m not going to leave you to face her alone after what just happened, Milady.” He responded curtly. He stood in front of me, all tall, blonde, and handsome. “After all, i’m here to bring you comfort, am I not? Sometimes comfort can just be someone standing by your side when you need them to.”

 

“...Thank you, Angel.” I say after a moment, genuine affection coloring my voice. I haul open the door, looking over my shoulder at my escort before we leave. “Let me get there first. It would probably be best if you waited five or ten minutes before coming into the courtroom, anyway.”

 

Angel nodded. And with that, I was out into the hall and down the staircase illuminated by flickering torches, stomach in a knot as I moved towards a one-on-one conference with the leader of this kingdom. I was about to lie to royalty, but I have never been more ready to do so.   


* * *

  


Waiting for the Empress in the middle of an empty hall was an extremely unnerving feeling. Absent was the usual quiet lute music, the gentle murmur of voices from the room’s occupants or the travelers out in the hall. It was stiffly silent and dimmer than normal: several guards had only lit the small side-lamps, not the main chandeliers. I waited nervously next to a marble column near the stone dais that housed an empty throne. Guards buzzed silently in, out of, and around the room, occasionally coming up to check on me. The palace legion captain, a middle-aged woman with a nasty scar down her face, came up to me and milked me for all the information I had on the assailant. The story was simple: it was just the 'weaving Angel out of the picture' part that made me need to jump through quite a few hoops.

 

Without warning the two large doors to the hall slammed open and in stormed the empress with the fury of some ancient god, long purple robes billowing behind her like a warmonger’s cape. Several guards, along with her chambermaid, followed her with nervous expressions. I collected myself as best as I could as she moved with purpose towards her throne. She took her seat, patterned silk spilling over the armrests and down onto the floor, and stared straight at me.

 

My nails bit into the skin of my palms as I stepped forwards into the center of the room, dropping into a low curtsy and waiting.

 

“Rise.” Came the empress’s rich and authoritative voice. I straightened my legs shakily.

 

“I’m been informed about the situation.” The Empress’s voice was tired, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, looking down at me. “For god’s sake, come over here Esha. Now is not the time for such rigid formality.”

 

 _That_ caught me off-guard. I hurried closer to the dais, standing at the bottom steps. Now I could see how exhausted the Empress looked: hosting a day and night long party and then being woken up to handle an attempted murder would tire anyone, I suppose. “I’m terribly sorry to trouble you, my lady.” I said meekly.

 

“Were you harmed?”

 

“No, your imperial majesty, I was not.”

 

“Good.” Empress Amara leaned forward in her throne. “From what I've gathered from the guardsmen, a trained assassin infiltrated your tower through the window, and tried to take your life. You defended yourself. I commend you for that.”

 

“Thank you, my lady.” I replied, lifting my head to meet her gaze. _I need to tell her about what the assassin said._ I worried my lip for a moment before speaking. “But… my lady, there is something specific about the incident that I feel is cause for concern.”

 

She waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve fought off enemies far worse than this, Esha. But tell me nevertheless.”

 

“Well, this- this may have something to do with those aforementioned enemies.”

 

That got her attention. The Empress’s keen dark eyes seemed to bore into my skin with the full force of her attention.

 

I swallowed hard. “The man who tried to kill me… he was speaking _Nepali_.”

 

The scattered few that occupied the courtroom visibly stiffened. The Empress looked at me with razor-sharp eyes, seeming to deeply weigh my words before resting her fingers on her lips contemplatively as she gazed into the distance. Her expression was dark, stormy and lost in intense thought: and for a moment I saw not the Empress, the life of the party, but the Empress, ruthless war machine and conqueror of these wild lands.

 

Nepali was a language not spoken in the city of Yasim, or the majority of our country, Vas. It was the fluent language of Koronas: a country with which we shared an enormous land-locked border. Many years ago, as the Empress’s campaign to unite our fractured country expanded, the army of Koronas was relentlessly aggressive in its attempts to push their border forward, expanding their territory. Only after many terrible fights and many lives lost did Empress Amara force the ruler of Koronas, High King Mondac into submission. He and she signed a peace concordat that involved Mondac disbanding his army and allowing Vas and Koronas citizens to freely cross borders to trade and travel. If my suspicions were right and the assassin _did_ belong to the Koronas empire, that would be a direct violation of their treaty.

 

The chamber was dead silent save for the crackle and pop of the large torches that lit the room. A terrible anger seemed to emanate from the Empress; the guards stood uncomfortably by the doors and her chambermaiden, poor thing, looked seconds away from hiding behind one of the many room’s tables. After a long and drawn out pause, the Empress spoke.

 

“ ‘When your people are not safe in your highest towers, you will know you are at your weakest.’ “

 

I tried to keep the questioning look off my face, standing below the throne with my hands clasped in front of myself.

 

“King Mondac said that to me, years ago, in one of our many meetings trying to de-escalate the war. Despite the meeting’s intent, I never felt that that was what he truly wanted.” She turned her sharp gaze back to me. “We discussed the challenges of governing our peoples: our hopes, our strengths, our weaknesses.” The Empress paused, her manicured hand down her face. She looked ancient. Old. Powerful. “The assassin in your room, one of our highest towers. The language. Kind Mondac’s silence to my recent correspondences. They all are fragments of a much larger picture I’d hoped i’d never have to see again.”

 

A slow creeping terror seemed to permeate the room: subtle, silent. It was the cold apprehension of an event I had never experienced in my life: the threat of conflict. The threat of war.

 

Angel chose that exact time to burst into the courtroom. The guards shot to their feet, two pointing spears at Angel’s chest and making him stop short from his running dash.

 

“Lady Esha!” He called, face the very picture of a worried and tired nobleman. The guards laxed a bit once they took in his appearance, his stressed tone; he looked just like a spoiled rich boy who had heard his friend had been threatened. Their spears moved to point towards the ceiling once more, and Angel quickly crossed the room towards me. “Are you alright, My Lady?” He said with wide-eyed concern, as if he had just learned of what had happened.

 

The situation was so high-stakes, so imperative to pull off: both with the threat of war on the horizon, and the potential to uncover Angel’s true identity.

 

It took all my willpower to keep a goofy smile off my face. I tamped down my incredulous laughter with a furious force. _This situation is so fucking stupid._

 

“Who is this _man_ and why is he in my _courtroom_.” The empress said coldly, guards walking forward to flank her throne at the appearance of a mystery person.

 

Angel stepped forward in front of me, bowing as low as he could for several seconds before rising. “Forgive me, your imperial Majesty. I am Angelo, Lady Esha’s loyal friend since childhood. I hail from the neighboring city under the rule of your court. When I overheard of this _terrible_ situation, all that commotion out in the hallways,” He turned to look back at me, “I simply _had_ see if she was still in good health.” He was lying through his teeth. He stumbled in parts of it, took some details a little too slow, but he had obviously rehearsed. It was passable.

 

The Empress relaxed a just a fraction. “That’s all very well and good, but would you mind explaining why you happen to even _be_ in my palace right now?”

 

“I invited him to stay a few nights in the guest halls for the gala, my lady.” I explained, stepping up and standing shoulder to shoulder with Angel. He may have practiced the first bit, but I can’t risk his improv skills landing us in hot water. “We’re both captivated by the palace gardens, and the city looks marvelous this time of year. He simply couldn't miss it.”

 

I waited to see if the lie would stick, growing more and more nervous with every second. Angel put an arm out as a public gesture of familial comfort, and I leaned against it, doing my best to look haggard and exhausted from the events of this evening. After a few terse moments the Empress nodded in understanding, and my knees nearly buckled in relief.

 

“You’re dismissed, Esha.” The Empress said, waving a hand in my direction as a palace guard approached her throne, presumably with news about the situation. “You should get some rest before the whole palace awakes in an uproar.”

 

I nodded and was turning to leave the room as fast as my feet could carry me when Angel put a shoulder out to stop me, still looking at the Empress. “Your Imperial Majesty, if I may inquire of you one more thing before I depart.”

 

I glared at the back of Angel’s head furiously. _What the hell are you thinking?_ This was our chance to leave this situation unscathed: the Empress believed out story and we were in the clear!

 

The Empress slowly looked back at Angel, turning her attention from her low conversation with the guard. I cringed at the sight of her leveled and heavy gaze weighing on the man next to me. If there was one thing Empress Amara hated more than anything, it was being interrupted. “Yes.” She deadpanned, voice bordering on irritable.

 

“If it pleases you, my lady, may I stay within the palace guest halls until this situation blows over? Lady Esha has been through such an ordeal, and i’m practically a cousin to her… I would like nothing more than to make sure she was safe, and happy for the foreseeable future; what with all the trauma she’s just been through.”

 

_If we get out of this courtroom in one piece I am going to kill that man._

 

Empress Amara was silent. The chambermaid at her heels seemed nearly bowled over by the gall and presumptuous nerve of the request. I held my breath, sweat beginning to prickle in my palms and the soles of my feet as I watched the silent figures of the court.

 

“...I’ll allow it. You’re dismissed.” The Empress said with a flicking gesture. It seems her desire to get us out of the way so she could focus on politics was more pressing than her need to punish Angel’s spoiled requests. Angel grinned like a proud puppy, eyes bright and walk bouncy as we both curtsied and bowed, exiting the room.

 

The heavy doors shut behind us and we began to walk back to my room through the side halls, who’s guards were missing from their posts to attend to the situation. My chest was near to bursting with a deadly brew of emotions: relief, anger, irritation, fear. Appreciation directed at Angel for his drive to bring me comfort and security, and unrelenting anger at how _fucking stupidly_ he went about doing it.

 

We rounded a narrow corner that opened to a flight of stairs. I grabbed Angel by the arm. He turned to look at me with confusion, cocky flirtation playing in his eyes. It was extinguished as I used all my upper body strength to shove him up against a wall, genuine fury coursing through my veins. He moved to move away, to disengage. _You don’t get to disengage from this_ , I thought darkly, and pressed a hand hard up against his throat, holding him against the stone bricks.

 

“How _dare_ you.” I hissed, face close to his, “How _dare_ you do that to me. You’re here on _my_ good graces, Angel, _mine,_ and you nearly _threw_ that away by mouthing off to the Empress.”

 

Angel opened his mouth to speak.

 

The fury roared in my ears. “You don’t get to talk right now!” I roared, my free fist slamming into the wall next to his head. “We could have _both_ have our lives _ripped_ away from us. You could have been thrown in _jail,_ and _I_ could have been stripped of my rank and thrown from the castle for lying to royalty. Your family would lose all their income from your job. Why do you keep trying to destroy the protection i’m trying to build for you? Do you really care that _little?!_ ”

 

Angel said nothing, chin tilted up to relieve a bit of the pressure on his airway, breathing hard through his nose. He didn’t fight my tight grip. The blind fury that pounded behind my eyes began to lose its fight, dropping its red veil of anger, and revealing its naked and trembling true form: fear.

 

“I could have lost you.” I said. My voice broke, wobbled, and the grip on his throat weakened. _My eyes feel hot. Why do my eyes feel hot?_

 

Then there was a warm hand touching my cheek and the rage I had sheltered my true emotions in fragmented, a hot tear spilling down my face. “You could have _died_.” I warbled out, and that was all it took for the man before me to wrap his arms around me, pressing my face into his chest as my shoulders shook, the tension and fear of losing someone I didn’t even know I cared about coming forth through enormous tears that soaked Angel’s doublet. I clutched him back with all the strength I had.

 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered again and again against the top of my head, “I’m sorry my lady, I’m so terribly sorry. I didn’t want us to be apart. I should have thought about it, I should have, I’m sorry.”

 

“You should have,” I said, burying myself in his embrace as my tears began to slow, “You acted like an asshole.” I pulled away from him slowly, wiping my eyes with the back of my thumb. “Still. I know you just wanted to help. You should have fucking _gone over_ it with me, because you’re still horribly new at castle politics, but I understand.” I exhaled softly, looking up at Angel before tapping his nose with my finger, smiling weakly. “Please never ever do that again.”

 

“Yes Milady, I promise. I’m so sorry. I just… wanted to help.” Angel shifted from foot to foot, not able to meet my gaze. “I.. I understand that you don’t want- or need- my compassion, or my worry. I know what I’m employed to do: what you _want_ from me. I am ready and willing to do it. I am your escort, not-” He seemed to stumble a bit on his own words, “Not your _lover_. I’m sorry that I-”

 

He couldn’t finish his sentence before I grabbed him by the jaw, pulling his head down and capturing his lips in a deep kiss. He grunted in surprise but quickly submitted to my demands, pressing against me as I pulled his body forward. My tongue danced across his lips, taking and invading and drinking in his taste. My heart was so full from this damnable man's words, aching with all the things I have begun to love about him: his goofy humor, the way he tilted his head when confused, how he sleeps like a giant muscly starfish. Walking him backwards, we stumbled into a darker and more protected corner of the hall, the castle seemingly silent and empty around us. I grabbed angel’s hand and placed on my the lips of my mound, over my robe.

 

Angel’s shoulders tensed, that fucking delicious pink blush coming back with a vengeance and dancing across his face as I pulled away from the kiss. He looked towards the hallway of the castle with blow-wide pupils: he was clearly nervous about being out in the complete open like this inside the castle. He was also clearly incredibly turned on by it. “My lady, we shouldn’t…”

 

“You make me cum right now you stupid lovely man,” I said breathlessly, shoving his shoulders until his knees hit the floor, “Or I swear to god I will make it my sole mission in life to make sure you never experience another orgasm.”

 

I could practically see Angel shiver at how naughty, how taboo this was, even as he shakily untied my sash and pulled open the front of my outfit to reveal my legs and my damp underwear. He ran a few fingers across the underside of my crotch, the feather-light touches of his fingers against my clothed and pulsing sex making my knees weak.

 

“You gonna be a good boy and make me cum, Angel?” I breathed, scraping my nails along his scalp and getting a good handle on his hair.

 

He made an absolutely sinful noise in response, pressing a worshipful kiss to my navel before pulling down my panties. “Yes, Mistress.”

 

 _Mistress? That’s new. I completely adore it_.

 

“Good answer. Go on.” I replied, spreading my stance and resting my back against the stone wall. Angel’s breath was hot on my wet lips, and I had to bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from sighing in pleasure when he gave me a tentative lick. His tongue worked its way up my slit, whiskers rough on the insides of my thighs. His fingers trailed their way down from their soft grip on my hips to the inside of my legs, creeping upwards. Without warning the full force of his tongue was on me, wriggling sinfully against my clit and pushing through my folds, Angel’s face pressed deeper into my crotch. The heat inside me spiked, my train of thought instantly lost in Angel’s fucking deliciously slick mouth.

 

“Ah, _FuckI.”_ I gasped, hips twitching as he sucked on my clit, fingers spreading open my folds so he could work his skilled tongue deep into my core. I relentlessly pulled his hair in my silent throes of pleasure, making Angel grunt and whine deliciously at the pain, rocking slightly on his knees as he rebalanced himself.

 

“If you make me- _fuck_ \- if you make me cum soon,” I panted, feeling his lips open and hot against mine, “I may reward you. Good boys get rewards, remember?”

 

Angel moaned in affirmation and _desire_ , tongue redoubling its efforts as he lapped at my cunt like a starving man. His hands moved from holding me open, and I inhaled unsteadily when I felt the tips of two fingers slowly pushing into my core, the fullness and feel of those glorious digits deep inside my slick absolutely _sinful_.

 

Angel thrust quickly into me, sucking and lapping at my clit. I slammed my head against the back of the wall, the heat in my stomach rising. Seeing him on the ground on his knees, hard as a rock and willing to let me use him as an object for my pleasure even in the middle of the castle, was unbelievably erotic. “God, _fuck_ , good boy, right there-” My words were a jumbled string of swears and encouragement.

 

Then he curled his fingers inside me, and I saw stars. I buckled over, shoving his head deeper between my legs, and came with a silent cry and a force so powerful that my vision whitened for a brief moment. My walls clamped down around Angel’s tongue, and he choked on a moan as I spasmed in his open mouth.

 

It felt like eons before I could speak, before I could _think_ straight. I pet at Angel’s head with buzzing fingers, hips jerking as he reverently licked me clean with his broad hot tongue, my oversensitivity making my core twitch. After a moments of silent and heavy breathing, Angel slid my panties back up my legs and over my trembling sex, drawing my robes closed and tying them off from his place on the floor.

 

“Good boy, my Angel.” I said, feeling the redness burn my cheeks as I stroked his head. He leaned into my touch like a cat, thighs open and cock hard and trapped underneath the extremely stiff material of his pants.

 

“Did I pleasure you well, Mistress?” He said, voice rough as his hands held onto the backs of my legs, face turned upwards and awaiting approval.

 

I smiled indulgently, petting his head a few more time before offering him a hand up, pulling him to his feet. “Yes you did. You did so well. You’ve earned your reward.”

 

Angel swallowed hard as he looked down at me, a glittering excitement in his eyes. His face pulled into a frown when I didn’t move to palm him over his pants.

 

I looked at his expression and laughed softly, rubbing one of his shoulders. “Ah Angel, you silly boy. I said you earned your reward. I never said you'd get it tonight.”

 

Angel’s eyes widened, his expression so horribly crestfallen. With a low whine he encircled my waist with gentle arms, pressing out bodies close together and dropping his head down to bury it between my neck and shoulder. It was a soft and wordless gesture: he was begging, pleading with me to have mercy on him. I could feel his cock, heavy and hot, through his pants and pressed against my stomach.

 

“No dice.” I said, laughing.

 

“Cruel Mistress.” He murmured into my sweaty skin.

 

“You love it.” I retorted, untangling myself from the tall man before stopping to think. Unfortunately, because of the conversation I had just had with the empress in front of all those guards, people would be expecting Angel to go stay in the guest rooms in the opposite end of the castle to my tower. He wouldn’t be able to come back up to my room tonight, which meant no touching his delicious skin, no seeing his mouth hang open in carnal pleasure. _Oh well. The wait will make it all the more sweet, for him and me alike_.

 

I stood on tiptoe and kissed Angel’s nose. “You have to sleep in the guest hall tonight. Take any of the free rooms; you’re expected to be in one of them.”

 

Angel, despite being jacked like a soldier and gifted with a face like a prince, pouted like a spoiled child. “ _Must_ I?” He contested, hands wandering all over my form.

 

“Yes. That’s an order from your employer.” I said, only half-joking. “Now go. It’s late, and you need to rest up. I’ll come for you as soon as I can. Just follow the main hall, go up the far set of left stairs, and make a right.”

 

Angel sighed as we stepped into the light of the stairwell. “Alright.” He pressed a kiss to my lips, soft and aching, and departed, shoes clacking in the empty halls of the night. I wish I could have comforted him, brought him back to my room and pulled him into my arms. But I couldn’t.

 

All I could do Is square my shoulders, tighten my sash, walk in the opposite direction, and pray that all the attention the nobles of the castle would rain down upon me when the news broke would disperse as quick as a summer’s storm.


	8. The Gentle Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butt stuff?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little shorter than normal but I really didn't want to break the meat of the next chapter up into two parts. (Also leave a comment to let me know if you actually want me to continue this story!)

The general law of gossip is that, despite it’s ferocious nature and rapid spread, always extinguishes itself within a short period of time. People always find a new piece of information to focus on, a new person to whisper about. 

 

This law does  _ not  _ apply to inner-castle court members. 

 

I had only just gotten back into my room and fallen asleep when the first rays of dawn began to creep over the horizon, and all hell broke loose. As soon as one noble was awake, it seemed,  _ all  _ of them were: and they had all heard about the infiltrator assassin and the subsequent one-on-one meeting with the Empress that followed. I was awoken to pounding on my door and several concerned and wide-eyed nobles flinging themselves at me, babbling on and on about how terrified I must be, how concerned they were for me. They had hardly even spoken to me before now. It was almost revolting seeing how fast so many members of the court did an abrupt 180 and began to act like we were close friends. 

 

The next day was filled with people. Guards were stationed outside every door, lords and ladies came to gently stroke my hand and worry over my ‘fragile state’, and maids were constantly buzzing around me and asking if I needed a cup of water or something to eat. I barely had a moment to myself: even worse, I knew that somewhere in the winding halls of the castle, Angel was being subjected to similar treatment. Not because anyone knew he was involved in the break-in, but simply because he was a fresh face and people knew he was at the meeting early in the morning. I tried to meet up with him all day: excusing myself from tittering groups of nobles and pulling away from squires trying to deliver condolences, only to be snatched up again by a worried woman who would babble on about ‘how tired i must be’, or a nobleman who trapped me in a conversation about shoddy security. 

 

By night I had practically barricaded myself inside my room, refusing any visitors. I laid face-down on my bed, bone-tired from the sheer amount of conversation I had gone through. Worst of all was that I couldn’t see my escort. I was so used to having him under my hands every night… it was strange to be in bed without him. Lonely. And  _ stressful _ , considering how he had probably done  _ just as much  _ talking today as I had, and it all had to be lies that aligned with his extremely fake backstory. 

 

I thought that, after a couple days of the castle buzzing, the heat would be off of Angel and I. 

 

I was so very wrong. 

 

_ It’s been. EIGHT DAYS. Of this USELESS DRIVEL.  _ I thought desperately as I walked down the hall, arm linked with young lady. I hadn’t met her until yesterday when she intruded on my lunch and launched into a tirade about how, several months ago,  _ her  _ villa was broken into by a burglar and it was simply  _ so  _ distressing because it had never happened before. The three lords I was having lunch with latched onto this information, proclaiming that we both have so much in common, and that we should exchange stories. That led me here, wandering across a courtyard bridge over a decorative pond while this young blonde chatted my ear off. 

 

“And of course, he said no. After all he was only a stable hand, how  _ could  _ he have read our mail in the first place?” The blonde tittered, throwing a smile in my direction as we walked, “I don’t think he was trained to read in the first place.” 

 

“How true.” I said distantly, bored out of my mind. I watched a dragonfly zig-zag over the pond’s glittering surface before darting towards the shadows of the long outdoor hall across from us. I couldn’t help but wonder how the insects survived this mind-numbing heat all day. Just being out in the direct rays at the day’s zenith for a minute or two already had me breaking out in a sweat. The dragonfly puttered along the columns, weaving in and out of the polished stone sculptures before being swatted away by the hand of a distant figure. The blonde woman’s voice faced from my mind completely as I locked eyes with the familiar man standing far across the yard in deep discussion with some stranger. 

 

My shoulders practically sagged in relief.  _ There he is _ . 

 

“Listen, let’s reschedule for dinner tomorrow, alright?” I said hurriedly, disengaging my arm from the surprised woman next to me. 

 

“Oh- alright! It was lovely to talk to you!” She replied as I quickly hurried away, sounding a bit miffed. But that hardly mattered, she’d find some other frivolous way to fritter her time away soon enough. 

 

I strode across the ornate outdoor tiles like a woman on a mission, closing the gap between me and my escort. Someone had dressed him, and dressed him  _ well _ . The light blue silk, glittering necklaces, and gold-trimmed sandals he was adorned in flattered his pale complexion, his kurta hugging his hips and shoulders. Angel turned a bit as he watched me approach, the noble beside him following his gaze towards me. 

 

“Angelo. Good to see you.” I said calmly, doing best to tone down the heat in my gaze and the warmth in my tone. 

 

He beamed. “Milady Esha! I trust you are in good health.” He clasped his hands in front of himself politely, fingers glittering with rings  he didn’t have when I had last seen him. 

 

“I am indeed,” I replied, voice echoing feigned exhaustion, “But the heat of the day has tired me. I’d very much like to discuss how affairs are at home over a cup of tea.” 

 

The noble beside Angel nodded at this, quietly excusing himself. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as he skirted us in the hallway and disappeared: it was clear that the whispers of Angel being my childhood friend from a distant city had already spread and taken root. Maybe that was a good thing in the long run. 

 

Angel waited for the footsteps to fade completely, expression stiff, before turning his head back to me and opening his mouth to speak. I put a finger directly on his lips. “Don’t talk.” I said quietly, slowly pulling my finger away and watching his mouth snap itself shut. Angel followed with an attentive and soft expression as I crooked a finger, leading him back across the bridge and towards the guest unit I knew he was staying in. 

 

“Does your door lock?” I said casually, opening the gold-trimmed handle and sweeping into the opulent and incense-filled guest unit. 

 

“Yes.” He replied immediately, shutting the door behind him as quickly as he could. As soon as the latch slid into place I was on him, desperately and madly crushing out lips together. Angel melted, and still half-heartedly clasping the doorknob as I shamelessly felt him up, running fingers down the curves of his back and the swell of his ass. He smelled like bath soaps; had I missed a change to see him lounging in a bubbly tub recently? Angel grunted in pleasure into the kiss when I gave him a playful swat on one of his covered asscheeks. 

 

We walked backwards blindly until Angel’s knees hit the back of the bed and he collapsed with a noise of surprise. I laughed, clambering on top of him and sitting astride his torso, directly on top of his clothed groin. His expression, flushed as it was, went from silly to pleasured as I rocked my body against his. Angel’s hands flew to my hips, lips falling open as he watched me rut against him. Feeling the hard ridge of his cock against me was pleasurable torture, the silks muffling the friction just enough that the action was barely teasing my nerves. Heat began to pool deep in my stomach. 

 

“Is this it?” He said breathlessly, moving his hips up against mine. 

 

“Is this what, sweetheart.” I asked him, my earrings and bracelets clinking musically with our rhythmic movements. 

 

“My reward. Please say it is, gods I hope it is.” 

 

_ That  _ sent a zip up my spine. I had almost forgotten that the last time I saw him I told him to be a good boy and wait for me to give him his reward. That had been more than a week ago. 

 

“Have you been waiting this whole time?” I asked him quickly. The idea of him, all alone in this room, horny night after night but waiting for me to tell him he could do anything about it… the concept was almost  _ too  _ delicious. 

 

“You told me to wait.” He replied hoarsely, breath hitching as I rolled my hips fluidly over his trapped member. “So- I waited like you told me to.” 

 

The desperate plea and submission in his tone send another spike of arousal deep into my gut. I could feel my chest swell with pride; he hadn’t touched himself once since I left him. “Oh, good boy,” I said, practically glowing with glee and delight as I bent forward to kiss him sloppily, “Good boy, my sweet boy, my Angel.” 

 

His lips smiled against mine in response, his eyes wide and starry as he looked up at me like I was the center of the whole world. “May-” He paused to whine as I ground against him, my palms on his chest, “May I have my reward now?” 

 

I slowed the rocking of my hips breathlessly, sitting up straight and grinning at him. “No, sweetheart. We wouldn’t want you ruining a perfectly good piece of clothing.” I swung myself off of him and he supported himself up on his arms, cheeks red as I drank in his already disheveled form. He was painfully hard under his tight pants, probably already close from the lack of touch he had experienced over the past week. He was needy. Desperate. This may be the perfect time to introduce him to my  _ favorite  _ kind of play. 

 

“Strip for me, sweetheart.” I said as I walked over to the vanity mirror, hunting around for a bottle of massage oil and returning to the edge of the bed. By the time I was back his shirt was already off and he was trying with all his might to remove a stubborn pant leg. I rested my weight on one leg, cocking my head and watching him pull his underwear off like it was on fire. He turned back to face me, propped up on his arms, legs pressed tightly together. I raised my eyebrows at the sight. He blushed, letting them fall open. In between his muscular thighs stood his cock, proud and heavy and already leaking. 

 

“There we are.” I said approvingly, gaze drifting down to his swollen member. “Hello.”

 

Angel smiled, gaze dropping shyly as I addressed his attentive and twitching prick.

 

“Angel, I need to know.” I continued, sitting myself on the edge of the bed and petting the inside of his leg. “Do you trust me? Really trust me?”

 

“Yes, of course Milady.” His response was quick, eager to please. 

 

“Then turn around. Face down, ass up, darling.”

 

His expression flushed deeper and his brow knitted, but he complied, moving around to push his own head into the covers, lifting his hips up into the air. I stepped up close, pulling his ankles a bit and sliding him a few inches toward the edge of the bed, just enough so that I could stand upright and still touch him. 

 

“You have an amazing butt, Angel. A gift of the Gods bestowed upon mankind.” I mused, running my hand across his pert cheeks, pulling it up and down and eventually to the side, exposing his puckered asshole. Angel’s body shifted underneath my touch, enjoying the sensation of my hands on his ass. I popped the cork off the top of the massage oil, holding Angel open and dribbling some over his entrance. Angel gasped softly in surprise and confusion as I slicked him up, rubbing oil over my own fingers as well. 

 

“My lady…?” I heard him say quietly, a question in his voice. I smiled, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my confidence and hide my nerves. 

 

“Have you ever heard of the prostate?” I asked him casually, rubbing slow and gentle circles over the ring of muscles with my thumb. 

 

“N-no, I haven’t.” 

 

I continued to massage him for a while in silence before sliding my index finger in just a few centimeters, then pulling it out again. In and out, just a little bit deeper every time, getting him soft and loose and doing everything in my power not to hurt him. “It’s like that place inside a woman that makes them scream, but inside a man.” I said, letting my other hand wander to his hanging member, squeezing it softly to keep his arousal as I worked my finger deeper inside him. “It can make men come just like their cock. And I believe it should be right around...here.” I hooked my finger inside him. 

 

Angel’s back bowed and he gave a hoarse cry, cock twitching in my free hand as I rubbed up against the round nodule inside his ass. “There we are.” I said softly, the gentleness of my words contradicting the relentless stimulation I immediately began to put him through. Angel keened and whined, his voice guttural against the mattress as my fingers worked his eager flesh. I added a second oil-slicked finger and increased the speed of my strokes around his dick. 

 

“You like this?” I said with a wide smile, “You like being fucked like this, baby doll? Having your hole used?” Angel fucking  _ whimpered  _ in reply, and was soon rocking his hips back into it like a seasoned whore, taking three of my fingers greedily as they rubbed against his prostate. His muscled back was dewy with sweat as he pressed his face harder to the sheets, lifting his ass higher on quaking legs. God, he looked so good. 

 

“Yes!” He choked out, “Yes, I do, yes,  _ yes _ -” His ramblings of pleasure dissolved into little slutty noises as he neared his orgasm. He was still speaking, voice muffled by the cloth beneath him. 

 

“Let me hear you, baby doll.” I hissed, desperately trying to focus on keeping a ruthless pace on Angel, and not on the slick between my legs. The sight of him writhing and blushing with my fingers inside him was almost too much to bear. 

 

“Please, please let me cum, please please please My Lady.” He was chanting breathlessly, sounding desperate and wanton and needy. 

 

“You’ve been so good, baby, so good,” I replied, taking my hand off his dick and buckling down on pounding his prostate, slapping the globe of his ass and kneading it in my free hand. “Cum for me, Angel, cum now.”

 

He let out a cry like a wounded animal, echoing in the small chamber as his whole body shook, his ass clenching down on my fingers and head raised in ecstasy. Angel came hard, collapsing in on himself and buckling, finally letting his stomach fall to the bed already slick with sweat. 

 

“Good boy, good boy.” I murmured reassuringly, pulling my fingers from him. Angel gulped down air like a man deprived, slowly rolling over to lay on his back. He looked almost boneless, his first prostate orgasm in his life rocking him like a tidal wave. Angel’s hazy amber gaze watched with exhausted interest as I pulled my own robes away from my body, letting my cotton underwear fall to the tiled floor. Then his gaze fell to himself, to his still-swollen and leaking member, and his soft lips formed a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. He hadn’t spilled his seed when he came. He looked up at me as I crawled towards him over the sheets, surprise written all over his face. 

 

“I know, right?” I said, swinging my leg over him and holding my slick folds over his member, “You’re still hard enough to fuck me.” 

 

I ran the head of his cock across the folds of my pussy, inhaling sharply at the sensation. I had wanted to fuck him, to take his cock and get myself off on it, for  _ ages _ . It had taken me so long to get the ‘special tea’ all the noblewomen drank. It worked like a charm: it had to, or the halls of the castle would have been full of babies by now. 

 

“My lady, no.” Angel exclaimed breathily, his eyes widening in horror. 

 

I paused, a cold sensation dripping down my spine.  _ Did he not want this _ ? “What?”

 

“You’ll get pregnant!” His tone was heavily aroused and swimming in worry. Angel looked up at me from his exhausted recline, a drop of sweat running down the column of his throat. 

 

I let out a soft laugh. “No, baby, I won’t”. And with that I sank down onto his cock. Together we gasped, clutching at one another as we both felt the dual sensation of my slick insides against his pulsing member.  _ Gods above _ , he felt like sin, filling me up like he had been designed just with me in mind, the head of his cock pressed up against my curves. I began to move and buck on Angel’s hips and he let out a broken gasp, eyes lidded in ecstasy and legs already beginning to shiver. I dropped myself again and again onto his cock, pressing my chest against his and grinding my clit into his navel. Our lips collided, muffling his tiny pleas and gasps and praises.  

 

“Good boy, so good for me,” I grunted airlessly into his mouth, nearly losing myself in the peaking pleasure in my core. He groaned back in response, bringing his hands to my thighs and shifting his hips upwards to match my thrusts. He spoke roughly in disjointed sentences, half-broken ‘thank you’s and choked ‘feels so good’s. The bed around us creaked with the force and power of our rhythm, our jewelry jingling in tandem. 

 

“I’m going to cum, my lady, please-” Angel was a wreck, shaking and squirming gasping under my relentless attention. His eyes were watery and I could tell from his voice that he was doing everything in his power to wait until I gave him permission to cum. 

 

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” I growled. 

 

Angel stiffened, grabbing my thighs in a tight grip and curling inward, mouth open in a silent yell as he spasmed inside of me, filling my insides with liquid warmth. The sight of him squirming below me in blind pleasure was enough to send me over the edge, slamming myself down one final time and burying my face in his neck as an orgasm rocked my body. I couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything besides feel the white-hot sensation inside of me and the tacky skin of my escort below me. 

 

It took us both several minutes to come back. I came to as Angel reverently kissed my face and neck, gentle, like a man at holy ground. I blinked a few times, his sweaty and gorgeous face focusing in front of me. 

 

“I haven't cum that hard in months.” I said with a gentle smile, leaning into his kisses and relaxing on top of him, breasts pressed against his pectorals. 

 

“I haven’t cum like  _ that _ ever before.” Angel admitted with a grin. I laughed at that remark, pulling our sweaty skin apart and stretching my stiff back and arms. 

 

“Good to know I’m showing you new and exciting things.” I replied before easing myself off the bed. As soon as my feet hit the ground I was aware of the thick slick between my legs, the combination of my own juices and Angel’s seed. I shivered, as pleased as a cat with a bowl of milk. After a few moments of steadying myself I ambled to the bathroom around the corner, dunking a few face towels in the cold basin of washing water. 

 

“How did you even know that kind of thing was  _ possible _ ?” I heard Angel say as I returned around the corner. He was laid out like a cheesy model over the covers, fiddling with a long strand of his own hair and staring up at me with a parody of a sultry gaze. I snorted, walking over to him with my cleaning towels. We were both covered in an overwhelmingly strong combination of musk, sweat, and fluids after all. 

 

“I’m very good at my craft.” I replied matter-of-factly before snapping my finger, pointing to the edge of the bed. Angel scrambled over, ever eager to obey, and sat with his legs swung over the edge as I ran the cold towel over his body, wiping him clean. He closed his eyes, leaning into my gentle touch as I took care of him, running comforting fingers through his hair and cleaning the sweat off of his brow. When I was finished with him I started on myself, the towel a cool relief on my hot skin. I was interrupted by a face pressed into my upper stomach and two strong arms wrapped around my torso as Angel clung to me. 

 

“Waiting to see you was horrible.” I barely made his words out with his face mashed into my skin, but they ignited warmth in my chest nonetheless. 

 

“I know, pet.” I replied, hand going back to play with his hair, “I’m sorry. I tried to get to you sooner but I felt that it might be too suspicious to avoid the nobles for so long. You deserved a big reward after being so patient.” 

 

“Thank you.” He rumbled out, holding me closer to himself. After a few quiet, warm moments, I shrieked in laughter as Angel’s tongue licked a broad and tickling strip across my stomach. He released me, grinning. I swatted him with the towel still in my hand. 

 

“Now tell me,” I continued once I had gathered up all our clothing and begun to redress myself, “How much lying have you had to do in the past week?”

 

Angel grimaced as he pulled his kurta over his head. “Honestly, my lady, I don’t even know who I  _ actually  _ am anymore.”

 

I hummed sympathetically. “That bad?” 

 

He snorted. “I’ve tried to keep the story straight. Noble from a distant kingdom, concerned for my good friend and all that. That hasn’t been the worst part of it, though.” Angel’s expression grew coy, a little prideful. “I’ve been hit on by the palace nobles nearly every day.” 

 

“Your expression is a little too smug, doll.” I replied curtly. “Nobles will be nobles, but I think you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

 

Angel’s coy smile faded as I closed the gap between us and pulled the sleeve of his Kurta up, lifting his forearm to my lips. He gasped as I bit down, sucking hard and digging my teeth into the flesh next to his elbow. I pulled away and admired the bright red mark that was already beginning to bruise: in an hour it would be a brilliant collage of purples, magentas, and blue teeth marks. “There,” I said, satisfied at Angel’s shocked and blushing expression as I pulled the sleeve back down, “That way when you escort me through the halls,” I put my hand on his arm formally in demonstration, as if we were casually walking somewhere, “You’ll always remember.” I squeezed my hand a bit, watching him stiffen as he felt the tender bruise below his clothing, just inches out of sight. 

 

“Thank you, my lady.” He said quietly, expression growing gentle and warm. 

 

I pecked him on the cheek and he blushed delicately. “Enough dawdling. Let’s go out, socialize, get your story straight before it gets us both kicked from the castle.” I joked as we headed for the door, arms already linked. Angel made a tired, exasperated noise at the notion of going out and chit-chatting with  _ more  _ people about his fake backstory. I giggled. 

 

Together stepped out into the hallway, still tacky with sweat and buzzing from sex, but a bit happier and a bit more confident than before. 

 

_ Maybe this really would work out alright, as long as I have him. _


	9. Reach Closer

It didn’t entirely hit me what my post coital-thoughts really meant until a few days later. The court political atmosphere had been merciful to me as of late, more people giving me room and space as more interesting matters developed. I found that I couldn’t bring myself to care less about what they were so involved in: all I could think about was the blonde in the guest room. 

 

_“Maybe this really would work out alright, as long as I have him”?_ I sat down in the palace kitchen at the servant’s table once again, pensively eating a piece of naan and hiding from the evening bustle of the court chamber. What did that mean? Yes, Angel was a delightful piece of ass, and _yes_ , of course I was going to get my hands on him at every opportunity. But it was different now. Something over the course of the weeks had morphed into something unexpected. The thought of his smile warmed my chest. I found myself going through the motions and tasks required by a noble while thinking not about his cheekbones or pert butt, but his shy laugh and his gentle humor. I realized I was looking forward to, more than _anything,_ just spending time with the beautiful man. 

 

_I think I might genuinely be in love_. 

 

I choked on the naan bread. 

 

A scullery maid rushed over, looking panicked as I coughed hoarsely. I managed to wave her away with a dry wheeze and watery eyes. This wasn’t good: this was downright _dangerous_ . My empress had a long history of generally not caring who married who inside her inner circle, but that only extended as far as the average citizens of her kingdom. Angel was quite literally not even supposed to exist. The comfort service might run rampant inside the castle, and the Empress may be turning a blind eye now, but she was not a woman to be tried or tested. A single toe out of line, a single whisper too loud, and I _knew_ she would launch a full-fledged investigation to root out any and all illegal services in her kingdom. Not even her closest confidants would escape unscathed. _Was I her close confidant, really, though_ ? I’d known her for _years_ , watched her grow from a gangly older teen to a strong woman as I did the same, and yet the inner machinations of her mind were a mystery to me. Better to avoid the subject altogether, in the end. 

 

The revelation of my emotions towards my boy weren’t exactly new. Despite the danger, the fact that Angel may in fact hold my heart in his hands made my chest tug painfully. Who knows if he felt the same way. I know I wouldn’t, if I were simply being hired out to a kinky stranger. He had expressed affection towards me before, sure. But who wouldn’t, in this situation? Being amorous with your employer was quintessentially your meal ticket. _Shit_. The thought depressed me.

 

I dusted the bread crumbs off my skirt and gave a thankful nod to the chef as I slunk out into the night air. I had been away from Angel all day, on a carriage tour with the Empress. He had stayed behind to go play some polo with the rest of the noblemen. I was no longer concerned about his poor lying skills. We’d been drilling his fake story into his head for the past few days until all the details matched up and he was in the clear. It wasn’t a permanent fix, hell, it was a shitty bandage at the most: but it kept Angel safe right now and that’s all I could focus on with my hectic schedule. 

 

I made my way to the edge of the courtyard just as several sets of hoofbeats began to clatter my way in the twilight, accompanied by laughter and lilting male voices. A crowd of noblemen were returning from their games, talking amongst themselves. Angel was in the middle of the pack, audibly chortling at some story he must have heard. He took to horseback riding like a fish to water, piloting the creature like it was an extension of himself; those years of stable work at the family farm really helped him garner some fame within the court circles. Seeing him look so in his element filled me with pride, and I watched with crossed arms and a cocked head as they all approached. 

 

“My lady!” A nobleman cried, doffing his hat with a crooked grin. Some of the others did the same as they stomped by to the waiting hands of the stable boys, hopping off and away as their steeds were taken in for the evening. I smiled and gave them a demure wave.

 

Angle clip-clopped up to me, his hair a bit windswept and his smile blinding. He slid off his mount, holding the lead in one hand, and giving my fingers a chaste and polite kiss with the other. “Lady Esha.” He murmured, a twinkle in his blue eyes. 

 

“Sir Angelo.” I returned mildly. “I trust you had an exciting day’s game?” What few people that were around us were distracted and headed back to their chambers for the evening, but it never hurt to be careful. 

 

“Of course. I’m rather partial to playing position one; it’s a very aggressive role to play, but I find myself to be quite a commanding person who fits it rather well.” 

 

I grinned at the irony of that statement as I straightened his lapel. “How fitting.” 

 

A stable boy approached to take Angel’s steed, but I dismissed him, making something up about having to show Angelo around the stables. I took the black horse by the reins, and together we walked around the back of the sprawling castle grounds, listening to the buzz of the cicadas and the chirp of summer frogs. The stables were massive, housing more than thirty horses in beautifully carved pens. The polo horse found its way back to its own personal pen, chewing contentedly on some fresh food as I stripped off its tack and began to brush out its hair with a soft hand paddle. 

 

Angel joined in with a small brush hanging from the sideboard, sidling up next to me and combing through the horse’s mane. It was clearly just an excuse to be close: he was like a cuddly puppy in more ways than one. After a few moments, he spoke. 

 

“My lady, there is something I would like to ask you.” 

 

“Ask away, baby boy.” I saw out of the corner of my eye how my response made him smile softly to himself. I decided then and there that even if he didn’t feel the same way about me at all, I would continue to treat my boy with the love and discipline he deserves. _He’s too sweet to give up_. 

 

“We’ve gotten… well acquainted in the time we have shared together.” He continued, brushing out a particularly stubborn lock of horse hair. 

 

“Oh we have indeed.” I replied in a smug and salacious tone, shooting him an approving glance and a cocked eyebrow. Angel laughed, barking aloud when I grabbed at his ass as he tried to shoo my wandering hand away. 

 

“That’s hardly what I mean. I was wondering if…” Angel paused his brushing, turning to look my way and worrying his lip, “... if there’s any possibility you’d be interested in meeting the family.” 

 

I fumbled with the comb, nearly dropping it. 

 

Angel balked. “Of course, I mean. I just thought since we’re going to be spending so much time together. Erm. Only if you’d like. No, actually, I’m sorry, that’s-” he sucked a breath in between his teeth, eyes squeezed shut, “-stupid, that was a stupid thing to ask. Of course you wouldn’t. I’m sorr-”

 

“Yes.” I interrupted Angel, hanging my brush and grabbing both his broad hands in mine. I was struggling to keep the lump out of my throat at the tentative and emotional gesture he was extending to me. _You don’t take people you don’t like to meet your family._ “I’d love to.” 

 

His face broke out in a wide smile. I grabbed him by the lapels and dragged him down for a deep kiss. He drew closer on instinct, wrapping his arms around my waist and grunting in contentment as I bit down on his lower lip. I could feel him grinning against my lips: the feel of it made something inside my chest warm and soft. 

 

I pulled away, stroking his cheek. “Let’s make a day of it. Head out on the town, do a little shopping. You can take us to the farm in the evening.”

 

“That sounds awfully agreeable.” Angel replied. Without warning he scooped me up around the waist, lifting me into the air and spinning me in broad circles. I shrieked in delight, clutching his shoulders for dear life. When he finally set me down I was dizzy and spilling pieces of my own hair out of my mouth. 

 

“It’s getting dark.” I said breathlessly, straightening my outfit, “We should retire for the evening.”

 

Angel nodded, giving me a peck on the forehead before wandering off in the opposite direction towards the guest halls. I snagged him by the hem of his riding shirt, and he stumbled to a stop, looking back in confusion.

 

“You don’t get away that easily. You’re with _me_ tonight.” After all he had said there was no way I was letting him sleep all alone and by himself. I was far too possessive for that. 

 

The blonde’s cheeks flushed as I lead him by the hand back towards the palace, the towering spires and wide roofs cutting sharp dark outlines against the fading twilight of the night. In the distance a bird trilled, and everything felt right in the world. 

 

* * *

 

A few days later I decided this was the right time to take one of the palace carriages out for a day away from the court. I had gone directly to the Empress about it, kneeling against the cold tiles and asking if she would grant me a day without attending the regular social meetings. She shooed me away with a quick affirmation, more intent on talking with her war council. They had been at her beck and call an alarmingly high amount lately, yet she hadn’t made an official statement on it. Tensions ran a bit higher in the castle because of it, but I didn’t really want to focus on that right now. 

 

Angel met me right outside the gates, where the carriage was waiting. He waved to me formally, opening the door with a bow and a sweep of his hand. He looked stunning with his hair woven into exotic and foreign nordic rows and braids, cascading down his back against his embellished green tunic. I curtsied gratefully in return, swinging myself up into the plush seating and pinning the window curtains back. Angel was quick to join me and sat on the soft bench opposite me as the carriage began to move across the moat bridge and towards town. 

 

“Does the driver already know where we’re going?” I asked Angel. 

 

“I told him to take us down to the market district and wait there for a few hours until we returned, then to drop us off at our farm, only to return an hour after sunset.” Angel replied. He threaded his fingers together, looking altogether very pleased with himself. 

 

I gave him a very strong nod of approval. “Look at you! You’re learning so well! You’ll be a student of the court yet, darling.” 

 

“Well, I had the best teacher.” 

 

_There’s that warm feeling again_. We watched the world outside whisk by, the low trees that naturally grew out in the Yasim heat blurring and growing fewer and fewer as more buildings began to appear closer to the city. Angel watched with intent interest. His hands idly fumbled with the golden trim on the carriage seats: he had been submerged in the opulence of the palace for so long, yet it never seemed to stop fascinating him.  

 

It would be quite a few minutes before our carriage would navigate itself into the downtown of the city. I had some spare time. I leveled my gaze with Angel until he finally snapped out of his reverie, creasing his eyebrows in confusion at my intense glare. Ever so slowly and intentionally and raised my leg and placed my shoe against his clothed crotch. He immediately went red, looking out of the windows of the carriage nervously before looking back at me, an unspoken worry on his lips: _people can see inside the carriage._

 

“Nobody can see anything but our shoulders and heads.” I murmured with a casual smile. “And nobody can hear us, not even the driver. Keep your composure, darling.”

 

I pressed my shoe harder against him and watched with delight as he unsteadily drew a breath, dropping my gaze and parting his lips.

 

“I love how sensitive you are, Angel. How badly you crave my touch.” 

 

His fingers clutched the seat trim tightly as I began to move my soft ballet flat up and down his hardening length.

 

“Does this get you off, sweetheart? Do you like being handled like this, out in public?” I asked softly, completely enchanted with his increasingly distracted expression. “Answer me, baby boy.” 

 

“ _Shit._ ” Angel grunted out after a particularly hard press, pushing his hips back towards my foot in a desperate attempt to get more stimulation. “Yeah, I do.”

 

“Tell me how much you love it.” I leaned forward towards him, only a few feet away from his face. I was playing a dangerous game with the cart going so slowly through the crowded streets, but it sent a thrill down my spine to see my boy so responsive. 

 

“ _God._ Fucking love it, when you touch me. Think about it all the time, your hands, your lips. I want everyone to know…” He trailed off, his blush coloring his cheeks. 

 

“Know _what_?” I said, lifting my foot away until he told me. 

 

Angel gave a whine, spreading his legs further apart in frustration. I folded my arms, withholding what he wanted to badly until he finished his sentence. He exhaled in concession, unable to look me in the eyes. 

 

“I want everyone to know I belong to _you_.” 

 

_Ah, fuck_ . I swallowed dryly. Nobody- _nobody_ had ever said that to me before. It was the sentence that haunted my dreams at night: somebody to hold, somebody to keep, somebody to fuck… somebody to covet and love. In an instant I had switched seats, sitting down next to Angel and palming him through the thin fabric of his breeches. His hips jerked in surprise. 

 

“My lady-” 

 

“Esha.” I growled, fumbling with the breech buttons, “You are _mine_ , you call me by the name of the person who you belong to.” 

 

Angel swore and grabbed at my thigh through my dress, his grip tight as I unceremoniously licked the palm of my own hand and began to work his cock. He huffed out my name like a prayer before dropping his head back against the carriage wall, shoving a knuckle into his mouth and occasionally hissing out a swear when I gave him a particularly delicious twist of my fingers. 

 

After a few minutes of me watching his tense expression with a warm sense of delight, the grip on my leg grew tighter. Angel’s eyes snapped open. “Esha, I- fuck, I’m gonna cum. May- _shit_ \- may I?”

 

“You’re close? Good boy.” I said, incredibly proud that him asking for permission had become an ingrained habit. 

 

The carriage began to slow, the murmur of the crowded streets outside growing loud. We were here, in the shopping district. I slowed my strokes on Angel’s cock before tucking him back into his pants and bringing the hand that was clutching my thigh up to my lips for a kiss. “No, darling. You don’t have my permission. I want you to be thinking about my fingers all day, wherever we go. I want you to beg for it.” 

 

Angel let out a whine and put his flushed face in one of his hands, but didn't protest. I knew that somehow the denial of what he wanted the most was what he craved; the lack of control went straight to his groin, and the power went straight to my head. I grinned to myself before wiping my hand down with my handkerchief, tucking back a few stray pieces of hair, and stepping out of the carriage. “Take all the time you need,” I told my boy, who was still bent over: to anyone watching it really just looked like he had a stomach ache. “I’ll be on the market road.” With that I closed the door and walked towards the incredibly dense throngs of people that swarmed the pop up stalls in the streets and the little shops that lined it. 

 

The city’s day market was incredible. I often forgot just how much _stuff_ you could find here. Vendors sold trinkets, clocks, shoes, hats, incense, spices, jewelry, food, and pretty much anything else you could think of. After ten minutes of wandering Angel seemed to regain enough composure to join me in poking around the tiny stalls, smelling candles, and tasting strange pastries. Together we burned through the better part of three hours. I had found a beautiful pocket watch that was engraved with silver trim. It hung from my waistline now, right next to my coinpurse. 

 

Eventually we came upon a store that had been idly floating around in the back of my mind: Sartha’s Embellishments, a popular and expensive jewelry store. Their owner specialized in slightly more durable and sensible items, as opposed to the delicate filigree and thin gold that was common in the court. I pushed the door open and sighed in relief at the cool air inside, a welcome break from the beating summer heat. 

 

“Good afternoon, how can I h- Milady!” The store clerk said, smiling. He was a middle-aged man with greying temples and round spectacles. He set the magnifying glass and small jewel he had been studying down on the countertop. 

 

“Hello, Arjun. How are you this fine day?” I asked, leaning up against the counter with an easy grin. Angel trailed behind me, walking in wide circles and taking in the massive amounts of finely crafted jewelry that rested and hung on every surface like a wonderstruck child. 

 

“Quite fine, quite fine!” The older man cackled. “What can I get for you?”

 

“I’m looking for a necklace for my friend.” I gestured over to Angel, who was busy practically pressing his face against the display glass between himself and a moonstone-embedded circlet. “Do you have anything simple, yet sturdy? A strong clasp and a thick chain, no chance of breaking.”

 

“That I do, My Lady.” Arjun hurried into the back, some wooden boxes clattering as he searched his inventory. He returned and placed something heavy in my waiting hand. “It’s a byzantine chain of a fairly new metal; a little less glossy than silver, but strong enough to hang a horse from.”

 

I unfurled the necklace with my fingers: it was indeed a duller color, but it was as thick as my pinkie and the clasp was clearly made to take some abuse. “I don’t know, Arjun. It seems a bit… tasteless.”

 

“Oh, but that’s not all!” The jeweler was quick to answer, pinching the chain and turning it over. I squinted at the individual links, and then smiled: in the center of each thick piece of metal was a tiny sapphire the size of a sesame seed, deeply embedded. 

 

“We also have it in rose diamond, emerald, and ruby.” Arjun added, sensing my attachment to the piece. I let the links slide between my fingers and pulled them taught with full force. They wouldn’t break, even if clasped around a neck and pulled with all my strength. Good. 

 

“No, I think I’ll just take this one.” I said with a satisfied sigh, plunking my coinpurse down on the countertop. 

 

After the purchase was made, Angel and I wandered back out into the streets. I had to pry him away from the jeweler’s manikin that displayed a six layered necklace that ended at the navel. He claimed he had never seen anything like it before, which was honestly unsurprising. We got back in our carriage, sweaty from the day’s idle shopping. 

 

“Do you remember what you said when we were last here?” I asked Angel as the carriage began to bump and roll down the streets. 

 

“I said a lot of things.” Angel responded suggestively, spreading his knees opposite me. 

 

I snorted. “No, baby boy. What you said about wanting to be mine, wanting others to know you belong to me.” 

 

“Oh.” Angel’s mouth softened, his eyes warm. “Yes, I remember.”

 

I pulled the necklace chain from my side purse and held it out, beckoning with my hands for Angel to lean forward. He did so dutifully, and I wrapped the piece of jewelry around his neck and closed the thick clasp. Angel sat back, rolling the chain between his fingers. “This is a beautiful gift, my lady. You really didn’t have to.”

 

“It’s not a gift.” I said, folding my hands in my lap. “It’s a collar, sweetheart.”

 

“A… what?”

 

I laughed. “A collar. _Your_ collar, to be precise. I’d like if you never took it off. Consider it to be a sort of… permanent mark of my hold on you.”

 

“A seal of ownership.” Angel said distantly, giving the necklace an experimental tug. 

 

“Exactly.” 

 

Angel was silent for a few moments before looking up at me. “Thank you.” The praise was genuine. There was something soft and raw in his eyes, so strong and direct that I had to make myself look away and out the window. 

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Noises of conniving in the distance) This is the last chapter before everything starts changing! The future of this story? Gonna be wild.


	10. A Strong Bond

I didn’t begin to feel nervous until the flat stone roads began to give way to dirt-packed ones, the trees and shrubs growing thicker and thicker as we reached the outskirts of the town. I watched the greens and browns fly past as I worried my lip. I was by no means a shy or worried person, but the more I thought about this visitation the less sure I was that it was the right choice. Angel had his own piece of his life that I wasn’t part of: would I be taking that away from him if I visited his family? It almost felt like a violation on my behalf, being his employer. His parents had to sacrifice their only child up to the prostitution business just to keep themselves alive. They probably wouldn’t be too happy to see people who they knew their darling boy was bought up by. 

 

_ Maybe I should just turn this carriage around _ . 

 

Something brushed up against my hand. Angel, sitting next to me on the same bench and looking out his own window, was wandering around with his hand in a search for mine. I wove our fingers together and his movements stilled, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. The sight of us so tangled together brought me peace and clarity. Yes, I was nervous. But I was doing this for Angel because he missed his family and wanted to bring me into that part of his life. I’d do anything for him. 

 

The ride grew more and more bumpy as we past broad farmlands lined with wooden fences and twisty vine-laden trees. Angel sat up straighter as we drew closer to his home, and after another twenty minutes of travel rapped on the glass window between us and the driver to let him know to stop. The carriage rolled to a halt, and I took a moment to compose myself, real nerves settling in for the first time. Angel was already swinging the door open, a broad grin on his face as he looked up at me from where he stood on the road. I smiled back at him shakily, clambering out and throwing a bit of coin the driver’s way. He gave a cordial nod before driving off. 

 

“I think you’re going to love my father. He’s slow to warm up but the grumpy old man act is a farce.” Angel was babbling as we turned around, looking at the farm house a couple hundred meters away. It was about as big as two of the palace guest rooms and made of thick wooden planks and thatch. Two animal barns sat behind it, a grain silo next to the furthest one. The whole place was surrounded by different fenced-off pieces of land growing different crops, and animal pens filled with lowing bovine and fluffy sheep. 

 

I was instantly more nervous than I had ever been before. 

 

Angel’s excited rambling trailed off. “I know you’re nervous, my lady.” He said quietly, turning to face me. “I’ll be honest, I am as well. My father didn’t exactly approve of what I was setting out to do. I don’t know how they’ll react to who I am now. How I’ve changed. I think they’ll see me as a different man.” 

 

I took a deep inhale of the hot country air, straightened my back, and held out my hand. “Well, whatever happens and however this goes, Angel. We’ll do it together.” 

 

Angel gave me a crooked smile and took my outreached hand. “Quite right.” 

 

We walked down the winding dirt path towards the little house, both listening to the chirp of summer insects and watching the smoke trail up from the chimney. We were feet away from the porch when the wooden door opened. A short woman with a bun of grey hair bustled out, holding a wide wicker basket full of fire kindling. She made it down a few of the rickety stairs before she saw us, and dropped the basket with a gasp. All three of us froze, waiting. 

 

“Is that my boy?” She said softly, the lines around her eyes creasing, her mouth an ‘o’ of surprise. 

 

“Mom.” Angel replied with relief before rushing forward. The woman let out a cry of delight and met him halfway, sweeping him into a hug. Angel absolutely towered over her, yet stooped down enough for her to fling her arms around his shoulders. I watched awkwardly from a few feet away as his mother pressed kisses into the top of his head, immediately chattering about how delighted she was that he was home. 

 

“What is it, Delphine? Who’s there?” A crotchety old voice came from the door. Moments later another grey-haired figure emerged, brandishing a walking stick: I could only imagine it was Angel’s father. 

 

“Our boy’s come back!” The mother, Delphine, crowed. The man’s heavy grey eyebrows raised as he saw his son, who held out an arm towards him. Soon I was seeing a family reunited, all three members holding each other in a tight circle, Angel squished in the middle. 

 

“I knew you’d be back.” Angel’s father said approvingly with a friendly smack to his son’s shoulder, “Like my pappy always said, you can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.” 

 

Angel laughed, eyes sparkling. “It’s good to be back, pops, it’s good to be back. But I’m not here to come back to work.” With that, he gestured over to me, signaling me to step forward. “This is Lady Esha, member of the court of Yasim and confidant of Empress Amara.” 

 

Angel’s parents looked taken aback and utterly shocked for a few seconds as they looked at me up and down with wide eyes. Then, as if remembering the ranks of society, they bowed and curtsied in my direction. 

 

I grimaced. “Please, that’s not necessary. I’m here on a social call. It’s very good to meet you, actually.”

 

They both stood up unsurely, glancing at their son then back at me, as if they didn’t quite know how to read this situation. “Darling,” Delphine said quietly, craning her head towards her son, “Is this the woman who…”

 

“Yes, mother.” Angel replied. 

 

Delphine’s expression darkened significantly. She took her son’s arm, shot me a glare, and turned heel back into the farmhouse, dragging Angel behind her. I cringed: this is exactly the reaction I had been afraid of. 

 

The father and I stood awkwardly alone in the close-to-evening sun for a few moments. With a huff and a grimace, he turned towards me and extended a weathered and wrinkled hand. “Name’s Ronan. Ronan Hauge. Yeh better come in: we’ve just made dinner. It might not measure up to what you eat up in that there palace, but it’s what we got.” And with that he was back in the house as well. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers before following him.

 

The cool shade was a nice change from outside. The inside of the house was small, mostly dominated by a central room that seemed to serve as the common room, the kitchen, and the dining room all in one. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling, along with fresh herbs, bundled up to dry. A fire crackled in the hearth, something cooking in two dented metal pots over it. The whole inside of the tiny house smelled like wood, vegetables, and nature.

 

As Ronan rummaged around in the common room, I heard harsh whispering from the other side of a nearby wooden wall. 

 

“ _ Did she hurt you, sweetheart?”  _

 

_ “No, mom!” _

 

_ “I swear, if that woman put her hands on you or forced you into anything, I’ll clean her clock so bad that her ancestors will feel it!”  _

 

_ “Mother, for the last time, I am perfectly fine. Will you please stop worrying so much?”  _

 

Angel and Delphine emerged from behind the wall, Angel looking haggard and Delphine looking angry. She caught my eye and scowled. I have her a polite smile in return that I was sure looked more apprehensive than anything. This was going just about as poorly as my worst case scenario nightmare. 

 

Delphine’s accusational glare was interrupted by Ronan clattering in the kitchen, checking whatever was in the pots before speaking. “Food’s ready. Dinner time.” 

 

Someone located an extra wooden chair for me and sat it at the table between Delphine and Ronan, far away from Angel. Eventually food was distributed: stewed chicken and potatoes with flatbread. While it certainly wasn’t the opulence I was accustomed to, it was fresh and warm nonetheless. We ate in silence, our utensils clacking against the earthenware dishes. Angel looked miserable at how hostile his parents were behaving towards me; they clearly had their hackles up.

 

Eventually Ronan hazarded to break the silence. “So, son. I hope you’re keeping fit. Life away from the farm isn’t an excuse to get soft, you know.”

 

Angel latched on to the topic, thankful for a break from the noiselessness. “Of course, pops.” He gestured vaguely with his spoon. “The palace isn’t exactly a strenuous place, but there’s a lot of things to be done. I’m on my feet most of the day.” 

 

“Oh good.” Delphine said tersely. “You’ve been made an  _ errand boy _ as well?” 

 

“ _ Mother _ .” Angel replied warningly. 

 

“Don’t you ‘mother’ me, boy!” Delphine squared her shoulders, tone fiery. “It’s bad enough that you disappeared from the farm, but we can’t all ignore the elephant in the room! You've lowered yourself, my son! You’re dressed like some arrogant and pompous highbrow, you’ve gotten  _ piercings  _ now! And you’re with this  _ woman _ -” She pointed at me accusational, “-who is  _ using  _ you for… Gods knows what,  _ abusing  _ you like some sort of-”

 

“That’s enough.” I interrupted loudly, slamming my fork to the table. Fury thrummed in the back of my throat. “I’ve endured your disrespect, and your apprehension is understandable. You’re worried about your son and that’s commendable. But do not, for _one second_ , even consider accusing me of _ever_ harming him. He is important to you, just as he is to me. I do everything in my power to keep him out of harm’s way, and would _never,_ not in a million years, do _anything_ to bring him pain or discomfort. Do I make myself clear?” 

 

The room was deadly silent. Ronan and Delphine looked stricken for a moment, before some of their aggression and terse body language began to dissipate. The breath I had been holding, anxiously awaiting the outcome of my speech, filtered back out through my nose.  

 

“Yes. Well, good. Good.” Delphine said after a few moments, stirring her stew and looking a little less angry. 

 

“If you had given me a chance to  _ explain _ , mama.” Angel said, voice a bit muffled with his head in his hands. He dragged his fingers down his face, exasperated. “Lady Esha has been very kind to me. I explained our situation, our debt to her, and she agreed to help me, out of no other reason than the goodness of her heart.”  _ An embellished truth: Angel was getting better and better at political speech by the day _ . 

 

This seemed to dissolve some of the tension in the room. Slowly, ever so slowly, the conversation picked back up again. We talked about all sorts of things: what palace life was like, how Ronan’s pumpkins were faring, the unnaturally dry weather we were having this summer. Eventually, without realizing it, I had fallen into comfortable chatter with Angel’s family. Over the two hours we talked I came to appreciate more and more how loyal and protective his mother was, and how level-headed and determined his father was. They were both wonderful people. But seeing Angel, Ronan, and Delphine all sitting in a circle, smiling and joking… I suddenly saw no place for myself. This was a family unit, whole and happy and safe. And if it made Angel happy for it to just be them, then that is the path I would let life take.  _ I would never let you go _ , I thought to myself, watching Angel tear a piece of bread in half, _ unless you asked me to.  _

 

“The amaranth is coming in nicely. It should be a strong harvest this year.” Ronan said, taking a long drink from his mug. 

 

“I was worried about that batch! I’m glad it’s growing strong. Did you fix that disk plow, then?” 

 

Ronan’s expression grew tight. His eyes flickered down to his potatoes. “No, but we’ll make do.” 

 

Angel’s brow pulled lower. “But the money, I thought…”

 

“The money’s almost gone, sweetheart.” Delphine said softly. She put a weathered hand over Angel’s. “What you did gave us enough to fix the pens and buy seeds for this year, but… well, the taxes had been difficult. And we still had all those loans from the past few years to pay off.” 

 

“Dammit.” Angel said. He sounded heartbroken, and I didn’t blame him. Seeing his two elderly parents, tired and delicate as they were, trying to stretch their resources and work themselves to the bone was heart-wrenching. 

 

“I’ll help.” I interjected. “We’ll both help. We’ll get you a new plow, better pens… whatever you need, we’ll get it for you.” 

 

“No, but thank you.” Ronan replied, lips drawn in a thin line. “We don’t take charity.” 

 

“It’s not charity.” I argued back, “Your son has been working incredibly hard at the palace, day in and day out. He’s helpful and kind and more active than many of the people I know combined. Just consider any money that comes your way his wages. Please.”

 

Delphine opened her mouth to argue, but Angel fixed her with a begging glare. “Mama, please. Just take it.” 

 

Angel’s parents looked at each other for a long while, before turning back to me. Delphine’s eyes were a bit watery. “Alright. We accept.” 

 

We talked together as the sun went down, Ronan and Delphine warmer than they had ever been before towards me. We had a mug of beer each; a special keg that Ronan had apparently been storing for a special occasion. As the last rays of light began to shine through the thick glass windows, dinner finally began to wrap up. I helped clear the table, knocking elbows with Angel by the counter and sharing a secretive smile between us. 

 

We were back out on the porch as twilight was fading to darkness. Angel held aloft a flickering candle lamp as his mother and father hugged him goodbye. I watched from beside him with a warm feeling in my throat. I didn’t expect them to hug me too, but they did. Delphine pulled me close to her chest, holding me in an iron grip and whispering a soft ‘thank you’ in my ear. Ronan gave me an awkward side-hug and said nothing but an acknowledging grunt. When all the goodbyes were said and the parents were back in the house, Angel insisted on giving me a quick tour around the farm before our carriage came back. 

 

“It’ll be fun!” He promised, walking around the back of the cottage. “I want you to see where I grew up.” 

 

I sighed. “Fine. But if I get headbutted by even one sheep you’re in for a world of hurt.”

 

Angel laughed, hopping a wooden fence and stopping to help me over.  _ Damn these unwieldy dresses _ . We walked through a few different fields of swaying grain and viney gourds by the light of the candle. A stray sheep tried to headbutt me and I dodged out of the way, hiding behind Angel’s bulk as he laughed so hard his legs nearly buckled.

 

“And  _ this _ ,” he said with a flourish, gesturing to a run-down red barn, “Is my magic kingdom.” 

 

I folded my arms. “Magic kingdom, eh?” 

 

Angel pried open the door, lifting the lamp high inside. It was a fairly big barn, with some empty hay-covered flooring and stalls inside of it where the cows would normally stay on colder nights. There was a wooden workbench up against one wall, a bit dusty with disuse. 

 

Angel heaved a sigh of contentment, setting down the bright lamp before twirling in a broad circle and falling backwards into a large pile of hay. “Gods above, I didn’t even  _ know  _ how much I’ve missed the smell of this place!” He sat up, looking at me with a smile. “Whenever I was angry, or bored, or just wanted to be alone, I’d come here and sit with the cows. It never looked or smelled the best when they were in here, but at least I knew nobody else would come bother me.”

 

I sidled over to him, taking a moment to really eyeball the hay. It seemed mouse-free enough. I plopped down next to him and pulled a stray piece of straw from his long hair. “I take it you came here a lot?” 

 

He laughed. “Oh, yes. It was the one place that my parents wouldn’t go to. I think they knew I needed my own space.” 

 

I smiled at the thought of a tiny blonde Angel running around on the farm and hiding in here amongst the cows, probably shoeless and dressed in overalls. “This seems like a pretty private place, then. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

 

He was close enough that I felt his breath ghosting across my face. The metal chain around his neck glittered in the flickering light. “I’m always fine with sharing myself with you, Esha.” 

 

I leaned forward, pressing our lips together. Angel grunted in surprise before leaning into the touch. I continued to push towards him, forcing him to roll onto his back in the pile of hay. I held myself on top of him, resting on my forearms and lazily kissing him. The kisses were wet and soft, yet controlled. Teasing. Angel chased my lips with every release, seeking more. I wasn’t moving with the fervor I usually did; that damnable gooey warm feeling in my chest was back, and all I wanted to do right now was to make him melt with me. 

 

Angel exhaled softly as I trailed my wet kisses across his cheeks, down his jawline, over the column of his neck. I paused to suck a hickey into his soft creamy skin, and his hips bucked upwards at the sharp sensation. 

 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that baby boy?” I breathed, pulling my head away to look at him. He was a sight: he looked so relaxed here, his arms thrown above his head, his lips kiss-bruised and red as berries. Angel flushed, turning his head to look away. I grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look back, to look at me. “Don’t turn away, sweetheart. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me something. Can you do that for me?” 

 

“Yes.” He breathed, looking utterly stuck under a spell. 

 

“Good boy.” I murmured. Those magic words made his body curl, a noise of pleasure leaving his lips as I settled my hips against his own, putting soft relentless pleasure onto his groin. “I want you to look at me and tell me that you’re mine, my slut. Tell me, Angel.” 

 

I rocked my hips a few times and Angel made a delicious noise, eyes fluttering for a moment before they focused back on me. He didn’t look hurried or violently excited like he usually did: instead his expression was almost drunk with contentment and relaxed arousal. “Yes, Esha. Yours.” He moaned again as I rocked our hips harder, feeling up his chest and shoulders through his tunic. “Only yours. Your slut. Yours.” 

 

His words were like molten metal dripping down my spine, filling me with heat and unhurried satisfaction. “Excellent answer.” I pressed our lips together again, falling into the hypnotic rhythm of slowly rocking against his clothed cock and kissing him like there was no tomorrow. 

 

I could only take so much teasing, so much slow build of heat and pressure in my core before it became tortuous. After what felt like eons I hefted myself up off of Angel’s lap and off of the hay pile. He gave a high whine in protest, but was cut off when I grabbed him by his collar and pulled him to his feet. His light blush turned a delectable shade of red. 

 

“Do you like that?” I said, in awe of how responsive he was. I gave the collar another experimental tug, forcing him to stumble closer to my body. Angel let out a gasp as he felt the chain tightening around his neck. I could see his cock twitch in the thin material of his tight pants. 

 

“Very much so.” He breathed, staring down at me. His hands began to wander up to rest on my waist. I tightened the collar incrementally, and his hands flew back to his sides. 

 

I looked around the room for a place to move us to as I slowly pet Angel’s stubbly face. The workbench looked study enough. Tugging my boy by the neck along behind me, I moved us across the barn next to the table. “Take off my dress, baby boy.” I commanded, turning around so he could reach the buttons. Angel complied immediately, undoing the clasps one by one. Every time another patch of my skin was bared, he pressed a soft kiss to it. He ended up kneeling in the hay as he undid the last button, the dress falling down around my ankles. He stayed down on the floor as I turned around, looking down at him.

 

_ Fuck, I could eat this man alive _ . He was flushed horribly, a soft smile on his face and his hands clasped between his knees, a bulge between his thighs as he waited on my next command. I grabbed him by his head of long hair, tilting his head back. He hissed and bent without resistance to my movements, his spine arching. 

 

“Do you want me to fuck you, little slut?” I asked him.

 

“Yes.” He breathed, enraptured. 

 

I pulled him back further. He winced but didn’t pull away, cock straining in his pants.”I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a little more specific and a little more enthusiastic.”

 

Angel had no problem with that. “Please fuck me, Esha. Gods, fuck, please. Wanna feel you on me so badly. Please touch me, please.”

 

“Good boy.” 

 

He sagged in relief at the response. I released his hair to pull my underwear off and sit myself up on the edge of the table. “Come on, don’t be shy.” I purred.

 

Angel scrambled to his feet, his hair a wild mess. He fumbled with his pants clasp for a moment like it was fighting him before freeing his cock and stepping closer to me. When he was in range I wrapped my hand around that collar once again, pulling his nude prick closer to my pussy. He stabilized himself on either side of my body with his arms braced against the table, muttering a hoarse swear.

 

“Say please.” I murmured in his ear. His body was painfully close to mine, and all I wanted right now was to feel him buried inside of me. But I delighted in making him beg. 

 

“Please, Esha. Please.” He growled.

 

I planted a kiss on his cheek. “Good boy.” I tugged him forward violently, his cock sliding deep into me with one quick movement. He cried out and I gasped at the sensation of being so fully filled: he truly felt like he had been made just for me sometimes. Angel pounded away, completely lost in his own animalistic pleasure, letting out soft little whimpers as I clenched down around his cock to tease him.  _ Fuck _ , he felt so good sliding in and out of me, grazing against my walls. 

 

I wrapped an arm around his back, spreading my legs even further so he could pump himself deeper into me. “So good for me,” I gasped, “So obedient, so ready to beg and plead and whine. My good, beautiful boy. My Angel.” 

 

Angel’s body shook with each praise, sending intoxicating shivers up into me. I could sense my own orgasm drawing close faster than I predicted: seeing him so bent out of shape and so desperate just  _ did  _ things to me. I came with a cry, legs shaking, nails biting into his back. 

 

“Want to be good for you.” Angel panted out, expression strained. “Please, Esha, let me cum. Gods above.”

 

“Do it, Angel. Cum for me.” 

 

His whole body tensed as he came, his last thrusts uneven and sporadic as he spent himself inside of me. His head dropped, resting on my shoulder, his whole body sagging onto mine. I could feel both our heartbeats through our skin, wild like rabbits. Still shaky and riding the waves of hazy post-sex pleasure I peppered kisses all over his shoulders and face until he picked himself back up, smiling. My heart felt full to bursting at the sight of him: flushed, content, and openly happy to be serving me. I closed my eyes and pressed out foreheads together for a few moments. 

 

“Come on, darling.” I said, untangling my sweaty legs from around his waist. “We really ought to be getting dressed.”

 

* * *

  
  


The carriage arrived on time, clip-clopping up through the darkness of the country roads. The lull and sway of it as we journeyed home was comforting. I watched the world go by in the moonlight as Angel rested up against me, tired and close to sleep. 

 

While it felt like hours for us to get out to the farm, it only felt like it took us minutes to arrive back at the castle. I helped Angel from the carriage as he yawned against the back of his hand. We were just walking up the massive stone stairs to the front entrance of the castle when I spied a gaggle of a few nobles standing outside the doors, talking among themselves nervously.  _ Odd,  _ I thought _ , usually they retreat deeper into the palace at night _ . 

 

One of them saw me walking by (A middle-aged woman with enormous earrings) and broke away from the group, hurrying towards me. “Esha? Lady Esha, is that you? And Sir Angelo?”

 

I had to stifle a groan, schooling my expression.  _ I just want to get Angel to bed and go to sleep, dammit!   _ “Yes, that would be me.” I turned around, voice syrupy sweet. “What do you need?” 

 

The woman’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Where  _ were  _ you today? Don’t you know what’s happened?” 

 

I instantly felt more nervous at her tone. I felt Angel behind me take a quiet step closer to my side. “No, Angelo and I have been out on the town all day. What has happened, is it serious?” 

 

The woman let out a scoff. “Empress Amara found a  _ working prostitute  _ on the palace grounds!” She said it like it was scandalous and unheard of, “She was questioned all day, and said there are  _ lots more  _ in the palace! The Empress is bringing in her inquisition team tomorrow!” 

 

My stomach dropped like someone had force-fed me a cold stone. Angel’s fingers surreptitiously slipped into mine. I glanced back at him; his eyes were wide and afraid. 

 

_ Oh shit.  _


	11. The Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically I've been going through a lot of medical issues lately (like dialysis, fun!) but hopefully in the coming months I can update more frequently. I love writing this "Plot-with-porn", and I have an ending already all planned out. (Comments are lifeblood. Lifeblood is wordcount.)

“Shit.  _ Shit.”  _ Angel was breathing hard as we stormed into my room and locked the door tightly behind us. I felt pretty much the same was about what we were just told, a hard knot of dread forming in the back of my throat. 

 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” I said, holding my hands out towards my boy with a calmness I didn’t feel. 

 

“It’s not ‘okay’, Esha! This is very fucking far from okay!” Angel threaded his hands into his golden hair, pacing. “There are  _ professionals  _ in this building that  _ want to find me _ ! And- and I’m not just worried about  _ me,  _ no-” he looked down at me with wide eyes, “-My family. My family’s going to lose all their income. They’re going to be arrested for selling a family member into the sex trade and I won’t be able to help them because  _ I’ll be in prison too!”  _

 

I grabbed both of Angel’s wrists and pulled them tightly together, stopping his manic tirade. He quieted down, looking at me with a thin and scared expression. He was working himself into a frenzy over this; and while I agreed that this was, indeed, a frenziable occasion, panic was helping nobody. “Now you listen to me.” I said in the strongest voice I could muster. “Nobody is going anywhere. Nobody is getting arrested or thrown from the castle, and  _ nobody  _ is taking you away from me. If worst comes to worst…” I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to tell him just how bad ‘worst’ could be. Me, stripped of my title and without a coin to my name, Angel in irons for the rest of his life, his family charged with fees they had no money for and arrested when they couldn’t pay. “If worst comes to worst, we’ll leave Yasim. And we’ll notify your parents.” 

 

Angel’s brow furrowed and his expression grew wary, confused. “Leaving Yasim… you would be abandoning your title as a noblewoman.” 

 

I kissed his knuckles tenderly. “I have decided you are worth more than a room in a palace and a pretty name.” 

 

The tension, stress, and fear that had settled into Angel’s shoulder began to dissipate, his chest deflating. He let out a soft sigh, leaning forward as I reached to stroke his face. “...Alright. I supposed leaving before we’re found would be damning enough evidence anyways.” 

 

“Exactly. The good thing is that you have a known alias and alibi already; but I’m worried it won’t stand up under intense scrutiny. But we’ll make it work. We always make it work.”

 

“More along the lines of, ‘you make it work and I hope I get it right enough along the way’.” Angel said with a smile. It was good to see one grace his face, even if it was forced.

 

“Quite right. I may not know as much about farming or… drinking at taverns as you do, but I  _ do  _ pride myself on being an excellent strategist.” I clapped my hands together. “Now. I think you should stay in the guest halls, just for safety. We’ve just got to skirt around the inquisitors long enough for them to find a few other workers, be satisfied that they’ve rooted out the problem, and leave. After that… well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” 

 

Angel nodded thoughtfully, gave me a brief kiss, and turned to leave. I couldn’t resist giving him a playful swat to the ass as he exited the room. He turned around, mock-outraged, and I gave him a wink and a wave goodbye. I kept waving until he was out the door, his footsteps disappearing into the night air. 

 

_ See _ ? I thought.  _ This will all work out fine.  _ I started undressing, carefully folding my clothes on the dresser. This is how I knew we were both in deep shit; I was lying to myself. 

 

* * *

 

 

Days from then on seemed to pass like the slow drip of honey on a cold morning.  Inquisitors stalked around the palace in their flowing grey robes, looking like unsmiling ghosts with an expensive taste in jewelry. Angel and I tried to keep to ourselves as best as we could. On one morning we saw a couple standing together in the courtyard, a man that was standing next to a woman, looking more and more nervous the closer a grey-robed inquisitor drew. I couldn’t blame him; people sniffing around your livelihood with the threat of imprisonment looming over your head would set anyone on edge. Abruptly the man made a break for the door, the pressure of keeping his composition in such a terse atmosphere unbearable. The inquisitor bore down on him like a hawk and hauled him away. We were notified a few hours later by the rampant tittering gossip that that was, indeed, someone from the escort agency. He was just as simple townsfolk, unprepared to handle the scrutiny of the law. 

 

I crept into Angel’s room and held him tightly for an hour that night. I could tell he was scared, his hands entwined with mine under the cover of darkness. I was scared too. “Whatever you do, don’t act like you’ve done something wrong.” I whispered to him against the sheets of his bed. “Because you have not.” I wanted to stay like that forever; held close together in our own bubble, weathering out the storm. 

 

 

I found myself sitting alone a week later, having lunch in the courtyard. It was a frequently common occurrence, being by myself; the sheer amount of under-the-table activity the Empress’s inquiry had sniffed out had her doubling down on the hunt. Really, it was best that Angel and I lead separate lives for a little while, but the thought of him on his own trying to bluff his way through everything made me very nervous. The broad leaves on the ivy canopy above me were beginning to turn a very light yellow around the edges. There was a distant chill in the wind, and not just from the frigid atmosphere of the castle; autumn was just around the corner, waiting for the heat of summer to die. I pensively took a large bite of my spinach and cheese pastry and tried to unsuccessfully soothe the nerves that had plagued me for the past few days. I prided myself on being a good liar. I had to be, living here. But the meetings around the Empress were getting nearly unbearable. Her hunt of the prostitutes was relentless, and I couldn’t help but unhappily wonder why. Was it really that much of a problem? It hadn’t impacted the social standing of our kingdom in any way; in fact, if anything it seemed to bolster the moral and productivity of the nobles, and feed more gold back into the common market. But I could tell from her gaze, her piercing eyes and stoic expression, that it was nothing more than the principle of the thing. The empress was benevolent and wildly intelligent, but she was staunch with her rules and threw the book at anyone who broke them. That’s how she had gotten so far in her life. I chewed my pastry as unease settled in my stomach. Despite that, and despite the logic behind her actions, I  _ still  _ felt uncomfortable. What type of woman would separate two happy people, two people in- dare I say  _ love,  _ just to protect her rules? 

 

“Oh goodness. There you are, milady.” A servant boy in a sharp-pressed suit came hurrying across the courtyard, nearly losing his footing on the damp moss of the pond’s edge. 

 

I set my lunch down. “Yes? What is it?”

 

“Her Ladyship the Empress is asking for you.” 

 

I swallowed, hard. The nerves I had been soothing came back with a vengeance. “... Me? Why?” 

 

The boy shook his head. “She didn’t say. She’s waiting for you in the grand study.”  _ Don’t be late _ , the unspoken words tagged along at the end. 

 

I tried to conceal the shake in my exhale. “Thank you for letting me know. I’ll go immediately.” I handed my lunch plate off to the boy and set off down the winding halls of the castle, blindly panicking. This wasn’t normal. Empress Amara didn’t ever ask for one-on-one meetings with her consults unless she was very impressed, or very,  _ very  _ angry. We were there to make her smile and look good in front of visiting executives, not to have serious conversations with. So if she wanted to see me in her free time? I clenched my fists as I rounded a corner and dug my nails into my palm. Well, it could mean nothing good. 

 

After two sets of steep marble stairs I arrived at the grand study. It lived up to its name: an enormous hall lined with ornate shelves of books, rows of lamp-lit tables, and a gargantuan circular map table in the middle of it. Only this time, the towering doors that were normally open were closed with two guards stationed outside of them holding wicked-looking polearms. I stepped forward to enter and the polearms crossed in front of me with a metallic clang. 

 

“This hall is closed for a private consultation with the Empress, milady.” One of the guards said stiffly, not even bothering to look at me from under his helmet. I could hear a low murmur of voices through the crack below the doors. 

 

“But I’m  _ supposed  _ to be in there.” I said half-heartedly. If I got turned away at the door, I wouldn’t have to meet with the Empress, and I could run back to find Angel. Now that I was here I was  _ convinced  _ Empress Amara knew about him and was going to try and get me to surrender him without a fuss. 

 

“Is that Esha?” a voice called loudly, echoey and distant. It was unmistakably the Empress talking from inside the study. “Let her in.” 

 

The polearms parted as quickly as they had joined together, and I slowly pushed open the double doors, shooting a dark look at the guard who talked to me. I quietly shut the doors behind me, and turned around with an enormous amount of hesitation, almost thinking that if I didn’t turn around at all, maybe the Empress would just magically vanish from the room. 

 

She didn’t. I saw her and several other people, all older men and women, gathered around the large map table at the other end of the massive hall. When the collective saw me, their conversation died off. Pieces of paper and flag markers that were placed around the table were slowly gathered up. In the middle of this large gathering was the Empress herself, looking frighteningly beautiful as always. I immediately noticed she wasn’t wearing her normal layered silks and finery woven into her hair. She had her war pauldrons on, and her hair was up in a no-nonsense bun behind her head. 

 

“Thank you for your time. You may go.” She waved dismissively at the group of people around her, who nodded and murmured, packing up and trailing out the door past me. One of them, an old man with a short beard and scarred chin, was the Empress’s war chief. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that I knew exactly what that meeting was about. My worried thoughts were interrupted by the kingdom ruler’s commanding voice. 

 

“Esha, come sit with me, please.” 

 

The walk across the wide room felt like an infinity. I heard nothing but the echoing slap of my own footsteps against the polished floor and the thump of my heart in my ears. After what seemed like hundreds of years I reached the wide table. The empress sat down in a wooden chair and gestured to the one across from it. I sat. 

 

The empress sighed before leaning forward and resting her elbow against the table and massaging the bridge of her nose. She looked tired. No- she looked exhausted. “I assume you are wondering why I summoned you here.” 

 

“Yes, my lady.” My voice sounded squeaky even to myself. I held the arm rests of the seat tightly. 

 

“You are… an intelligent woman, Esha. I’ve always known that. Your father, Gods rest his soul, knew that too. I think that’s why he was so adamant about you learning all the rules of court at such an early age; so you wouldn’t get distracted. And above it all you make it very clear that your true place is not among the menagerie of my other consults.”

 

I opened my mouth to argue, mortified that she had detected that so plainly, and even more mortified that she had brought up my father. We had grown up together in the castle, after all; she knew my father as an authority figure like I did, yet she was talking about him like he was a fellow noble she had a business relationship with. 

 

The empress bored into me with her eyes, obviously detecting my fluster. “Please, don’t insult me. Despite what you may think you are not, in fact, a perfect liar. I’ve seen how bored you get with table-talk, and how fascinated you are with the goings-on of the world outside the palace. You don’t fit. And that’s why I think you deserve a little bit of closure.”

 

“...Closure, my liege? On what?” 

 

“The assassin that broke into your bedroom a while ago. After quite a bit of difficulty, the jailer convinced him to talk. Apparently, High King Mondac has been rallying his armed forces for months now in secret. My scouts confirmed it.” She paused to look straight at me. “He’s going to make a grab at Yasim.” 

 

The room filled with a quiet that was deadly and sickening. My mouth fell open, eyes bulging like someone had just punched me in the gut.  _ Mondac is making a grab at Yasim. Gods above, we’re going to… _

 

I coughed, trying to get rid of the dryness in my mouth and the violent pounding in my ears. “We’re- we’re going to war?” 

 

The Empress nodded. “I’ve already shut down production of various goods and issued wartime commands to the blacksmiths. I’ve also sent word to our sister city, Daliin. Reinforcements should arrive by the end of the week.” 

 

I nodded dumbly as I tried to process what I was hearing. I felt like a fish pulled from the water, stranded on land, flipping back and forth helplessly and searching for something familiar. Reinforcements. That’s right. Yasim had a very small active military due to the treaty dictating how big each side’s military could be. Mondac was clearly not keeping up his side of the bargain, so neither would we. But  _ war _ . I had seen war before; or more fittingly, heard of it. Nobles were always shuffled around to safer parts of the country when fighting broke out. The most I’d ever seen of it was endless lines of soldiers in shining plate armor, marching one after another towards a front line miles away. “He’s probably going to attack from the border.” I said, blankly staring at the inked map of the country that was painted on the table in front of me, “Shouldn’t we have a preliminary defensive line set up? There are dunes there that could provide significant cover.” 

 

“Mmm.” The Empress hummed. “My rank officer said the same thing.” She pointed to the desert that backed Yasim up against the jungle forest, finger tracing the black lines. “The dunes are high, but we’d be fighting from the bottom up if we used those tactics. The desert closest to the city walls is hundreds of yards of flat sand. We’ll have defensive lines set up, of course, but I’m focusing all our main power on archery.”

 

I thought about the high walls that surrounded the city. It was a good plan. But if Mondac found a way to bring even a single trebuchet across the sands… I shook my head. I was getting distracted with things I had only read about. I knew nothing of real war strategist. When I lifted my gaze from the map I saw Amara watching me carefully with those hawk-like eyes of hers. She had me pegged for what I really was and she knew it: not a noblewoman, but someone who aspired to live and learn about the world in all its aspects. I smiled weakly back at her. 

 

She sighed before standing up and leaning against the table. “The past weeks have been an enormous load to bear, Esha.” She said quietly. “There’s always work to be done, laws to be upheld. I don’t like to do it, but it must be done for the sake of order and freedom in these lands.” 

 

“I imagine it’s been quite trying, Empress.” I took this as my cue to stand up as well, awkwardly holding my hands in front of my body and hoping this was the end of our conversation. 

 

But then those damnable razor-sharp eyes were on me again. “It’s a shame,” the empress continued, “all the underhanded activities I’ve been discovering nested in my own court as of late. Discouraging and disheartening things they are. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

 

I was painfully aware of my breathing. I knew, deep down in my bones, the Empress knew about Angel. She was watching every bit of my body language, every twitch of my face. “Oh, simply horrible business, Milady.” I agreed, desperate to keep a mask of disdain on my face. “I don’t know how the others of the court can be so disrespectful of you.” 

 

She made a contemplative noise. “Quite so. But you’ve always been a loyal one, haven’t you? It’s that long lineage of royalty in your blood; surely you would never engage in such illegal activities.” 

 

A bigger emotion made concealing my rising terror easier. I feigned a blush, putting a hand to my cheek and looking away. “My lady, you flatter me. This is my home. I would do nothing to jeopardize that.” The lies felt like tar in my mouth, dripping down my chin in a way that felt painfully obvious to anyone around me. 

 

There was a beat of silence before the empress spoke again. This time her voice was different; there was none of the amenability she previously had as she tried to ferret out an honest response from me. “Hmm. That Angelo. He’s a fascinating man, isn’t he? Truly interesting.” 

 

I felt like I was seconds away from crumbling under the oppressive force of her gaze.  _ Gods above, she knows. She actually truly knows about Angel, and all our lives are going to be torn apart.  _ It was in her tone; she knew that  _ I  _ knew that she knew Angel was a hired prostitute. She wanted me to admit it. Whether it was for mercy or to establish her dominance I didn’t know; but either way she wasn’t getting what she wanted. I screwed a tight smile to my cheeks. “Fascinating indeed, your majesty.” 

 

There was another lull of dead silence in the room. It dragged on and on, and I felt helplessly pulled into her gaze. I could see that she saw my hidden terror, and I knew with sickening certainty that her investigators would be appearing in my doorway within the hour. The empress stood up straight and placed her hands on her hips. “You may go.” 

 

I didn’t even remember leaving the grand study. I ran down the hallways full-tilt my heart hammering in my ears. I don’t think I had ever felt like this: my adrenaline was rushing through my veins, panic making my hands shaky. In the split second that I crossed the threshold to my room, I made a decision. I could stay here, turn in Angel, beg for forgiveness and hope it was enough to keep my title. Or I could find my boy, tell his family to get out of Yasim, and run away with him, unsure of where my life would take us. Peace, or war. 

 

I chose war. 

 

Within the next five minutes I had penned a letter of urgent notice to the Hauge homestead farm, handed it to a mail-runner boy, and packed up a small bag full of absolute essentials. I felt disconnected from reality as I looked at all the things in my room I would probably never see again. My four poster bed. The window overlooking the sweeping city. An ornate silver tray filled with delicate teacups and finger sandwiches. I was kissing it all goodbye.  _ But by the gods is it worth it if I get to keep him safe _ . I put on the most practical outfit and shoes I could find in my repertoire and headed off to find Angel. 

 

My boy nearly jumped out of his skin as I burst into the guest unit. He was clearly just finishing shaving, a straight razor on the table and a damp washcloth in his hand. “Esha.” He said with a small smile. “What are you-”

 

“No time.” I said breathlessly, shoving past him and beginning to pack up a medium wooden box with his meager amount of possessions. “Angel, I know this is sudden, but we have to leave. Right now.” 

 

Angel opened his mouth to ask why, but when he saw my grim and bloodless expression, shut it. He already knew. “My family.” He asked tonelessly as he began to rip off his fancy dress shoes and shove on leather ones better suited to walking. 

 

“I send them an urgent letter. It should be on its way as we speak.” I replied tightly. 

 

“Alright.” He took the wooden case from me as I shoved it into his chest, and blocked my way to the door. “Are you absolutely sure about this.” 

 

I felt like my heart would burst. Even now, even when both of our livelihoods were on the line, he was letting me make a choice. Angel was giving me an out; the stupid, brave, gentle-hearted man that he was was more worried about my life than his. I cupped his cheek with one hand and stared him down. “I have never been more sure about anything in my life.” 

 

He nodded once, curtly. “Then let’s be off, my lady.” 

 

We took the servants tunnels across the castle grounds, only stopping once at the kitchens. The head cook looked us up and down once, taking in our luggage and harrowed expressions. We left out the castle’s back door with linen satchels of pemmican, biscuit bread, and jerky, and a waterskin each. The sun was nearing setting as we reached the stables. Thankfully there was only one sleepy-looking guard there, who gave us a blank nod before resting back against the cobblestone stable wall, eyes closed. We saddled up two horses usually reserved for carriage-pulling; big monstrous creatures with incredible stamina, their beards and maned hooves an indicator of their origin country of Koronas. With haste we mounted and hurried out of the back courtyard and down a narrow winding road usually reserved for carts and wagons of supplies headed up to the castle. I could see the city far below opening up around us; in minutes we would be cantering down the outer streets, headed for the main road out of the city. 

 

“Esha? Is that you?”

 

I winced, my gaze falling on a woman off to my side. She was stepping out of one of the shops closer to the castle. Her face made my heart squeeze; it was the same woman from the garden, the woman who recommended I get myself an escort. I didn’t know whether to blame her for all my joys, or all my sorrows. 

 

Her gaze moved from me, to the many bags strapped to the horses, to Angel. Her mouth parted in a little ‘o’ of understanding. “... Best of luck to you.” She said apprehensively.

 

I nodded curtly, throat closing up. Why did her saying that make my chest hurt so badly? With a snap of my reins the horse was setting off back down the street, Angel hot on my heels. 

 

It took us about an hour to find our way out of the absolutely gigantic gateway of the walls of Yasim. A large dirt road opened up to a three-way crossroads, farm and foot traffic occasionally dotting it. The left led to the farming district, the right led to our far-away sister city of Daliin, and the center one led into the winding humidity of the jungle. 

 

Angel’s horse nickered as he walked his way to my side. “Do we know where we want to go?” He asked, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. The evening heat of the late summer was making his face tacky with sweat. 

 

I bit my lip, hard. “The farmlands are a dead end; they just empty out to the wastelands. We can’t go to Daliin, they’re getting ready for war and if there’s  _ any  _ place we’ll get caught, it’s there.” I looked at Angel helplessly. That’s as far as my knowledge went. My whole life was behind me, enclosed in those city walls. Any other travel I had done had been when I was very young and unconcerned with what was happening around me. 

 

Angel saw the worry on my face. “Don’t worry. I drove the produce caravan out to a few small towns in the jungle with my father once or twice. We can head to the closest one and figure out where to go from there.”

 

I swallowed and nodded as Angel took the lead, walking towards the looming jungle that sprawled across the distant mountains. With every jolting step of the large horse below me I could feel my life being ripped apart. I could feel the sinews of its flesh contorting, snapping, its lifeblood spilling onto the thirsty earth. There would be no more court musicians, no more manicured rosebushes. When I stepped out of that gate all the skills I had learned in my life had been rendered useless. I was adrift in the wind and, for the first time in my life, lost. 

 

“Well.” Angel said in front of me as his horse kicked up dust. “At least it’s not raining.” 

 

My mouth quirked and I focused all my attention on the gentle boy in front of me who had just lost everything too. “Not a drop in sight.” I replied. 

 

With him, I was never lost. 

 

* * *

Twilight gave way to purpling skies, the first stars starting to wink into view. The jungle began to surround us now, in an extraordinarily loud symphony of insects, birds, and leaves dancing in the night wind. It would be stunningly beautiful if I knew what lay in store for us inside of it. I picked a fleshy purple flower off of a vine hanging from a nearby branch as we walked past it, smelling its sweet aroma and tucking it behind my ear. It had been an hour since we had last seen another person on the road, and for that I was grateful. Traffic seemed to have stopped with the setting of the sun, but I knew that was because the jungle grew-pitch black at night. Our little oil lanterns weren’t going to be enough to ride the horses by; at some point we were going to have to get off and lead them over the root-ridden trail ourselves. 

 

Over the long hours we had been walking Angel had carefully navigated us from fork in the road to fork in the road, double-checking each wooden marker and sign we had come across to make sure we were going the right way. When we paused to stretch our legs and take a sip from our waterskins, he told us we were going to a hamlet in the valley over the nearby mountain; a little place called Walven. I said nothing in reply. Really, I had no words. It almost wasn’t registering to me that we were out in the middle of the wilds, never to return to Yasim. 

 

It was a half-hour later when our winding uphill climb reached the mountain crest. We dismounted and set our lanterns to full, ready to lead our horses by the reins through hours and hours of forest. We couldn’t afford to stop, not this close to the city. 

 

I turned to look at Angel, about to check in with him and see how he was faring. My words died in my throat. Angel was looking over my shoulder in the directing we came from, mouth open and expression aghast, like he had seen a ghost. 

 

“Sweetheart, what is it?” I asked, rounding my horse that was blocking my view from whatever he was seeing. “What do you…”

 

You could always see the high walls of Yasim city from miles away regardless of where you were. This I knew from reading countless books. It was easy to see the miles of grey defenses during the day, but you could barely make the outline out during the night. But now, against the pitch darkness of the sky, it was very,  _ very  _ easy to see. 

 

Because Yasim was on fire. 

 

The sickly orange-red glow was unmistakable, even from this distance. No bonfire could glow that brightly, not unless it was consuming the streets of my city. True mind-bending horror crept into my body, traveling upwards like a poison. My life was burning, miles away, my  _ friends _ we burning,  _ the city was burning _ . And I knew why. Mondac wasn’t waiting anymore. Mondac set his armada loose on the defenseless city  _ tonight _ . 

 

From this far away I couldn’t even hear the crackle of the flames as they ate away at everything I held dear. 

 

I didn’t even register that I had fallen to my knees until the sharp stones of the trail bit into my shins. Tears I didn’t know I was shedding cooled in long tracks on my cheeks in the night breeze. Angel’s hands were on my shoulders, his body falling down next to mine, his breathless words of stupefied horror falling on dead ears. 

 

Yasim was on fire. 


End file.
